the ponderings of a mother

These are the ponderings of a mother in love with her children, both in my arms and in the grave. Some of these ponderings are quite emotional, some are funny, others contemplative and spiritual. All are sincere. May these writings bless you in many ways and bring you closer to the one, true God and Redeemer of all things.

Friday, March 2, 2012


It was Monday of this week and I was still feeling weary. Lent had begun the previous Wednesday bereft of personal action. The discipline of Celebration chosen, but I must confess, I had little hitch in my spiritual giddy-up, one might say. Evening was fast approaching which means dinner and, for Mondays, my small group of women arriving at 7pm. They come to our home and daddy takes Elsa out and about from 7-9pm all wrapped up close to him. She typically sleeps the duration.

It was 6pm and I was to start dinner so I could eat and package up some for Jeff. He wasn’t to get home until 7pm this particularly Monday when we would quickly make the baby exchange, hand off dinner, and send him on his way whilst ladies arrive. No prob.  So…it is 6pm I am hungry, Jeff will be hungry, Elsa is growing hungry. I don’t feel particularly overwhelmed, just wearied.  I realize I have not prayed at all that day, nor prepared for my group, nor am I feeling the mental acuity to shoot from the hip. Sluggish I place veggies on the chopping board.

Elsa’s hunger grows.

Somehow I have done nothing but it is now 6:20. Veggies still whole and I am falling into pieces.  I realize my thirst and grab a glass, holding it to the Brita well on our countertop…empty. 

Body and soul. 

Simultaneously I realize I have not lit our Lenten candles for the evening. I quickly light them all reminding me of the many days now past in this season where I have not celebrated. I have not celebrated.

Elsa vocalizes her hunger pangs and I attempt to soothe her with plastic visual. Empty attempts…she wants the real thing.

And so do I.

I stand up to the chopping board with knife in hand and see it is more than veggies that must be cut. These moments do not keep me weary, I do. The cutting I must do is through the false hope that another moment will bring relief, another place will offer respite,  the lie that God cannot refresh me here.


This moment is where I begin my discipline of celebration. Knife is laid on chopping board and my heart is cut open…thank you God for this very moment. You are present. You are here. These moments do not keep me from you…I do.

My thirst still calls and so I attend. Grabbing the Word and the babe I sit to feed us both. Jesus encounters the woman at the well in John 4, and I encounter Jesus. 

In the flickering light I remember all moments are places to encounter. I can celebrate right here. I breathe deep and feast without dinner made. Elsa and I. She rests content and I remember through her how good our Heavenly Father must be, He will give us all we need. 

6:50pm, two arrive together early. I am making scrambled eggs for my own dinner now as they hold Elsa. Daddy enters, I hand off babe and cash… “enjoy dinner out, your first of many daddy daughter dates”.  

The group begins in candle light and silence… and us ladies, we drink together from the Well that never runs dry. 

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