The Heart of a Mom

Journal Entry May 9, 2020

I just sat down with my cup of coffee and am attempting to collect my thoughts. It is a cold, extremely windy, dreary day. Befitting of my mood. I have so many things on my mind, but one continues to come to the forefront. It is an image. It isn't as if I have never experienced it before, simply this time was different. It's the image of a gentle young cow standing over her stillborn calf. It was my daughter's cow, one of her best. Nobody had been out to check since that morning, so we don't have an idea what went wrong or if it could have been prevented. Regardless, it struck a chord in my heart. I watched as she nuzzled, licked and called, perplexed that he wouldn't get up to nurse. I had to look away, knowing the tears would come if I didn't. I knew. I knew that life wouldn't return to that motionless body, and yet there she stood, summoning, trying to coerce, as if her touch and voice would bring him back. Unbidden, the images of those mamas I know who also have held their breathless newborn babes came to my mind and my heart shattered all over again. Yet, unlike that gentle creature standing before me, they had the knowledge that the lives the held would not be resurrected this side of heaven. And still they held on, admired, spoke love and longed for the God who knit them together to breath life back into those still, small bodies. The clung to what was left of the dreams, aspirations and short time they had, not wanting to let go. The questions came pouring back from the far reaches of my mind, called out to the One who formed their inward parts. Why? For what greater purpose? Why bring us this far, so close, just to pull it away? All of the time knowing I am not really seeking the answers, but the comfort and reassurance of Him whom I know has them.
What if it happens again? I am here. I have it under control. He whispers to my heart and places another piece back into place.
I can't do it again! Not myself, nor can I watch someone I love endure it. You don't have to. It is my strength made perfect in weakness. I can.
Another piece is slipped into place and my heart is strengthened.
I then remember another image, hidden in the image that encompasses my thoughts. The picture of one calling to the dead to rise up. The one who, with a voice or a touch, coerce life from death. I am encouraged. I long to turn over the dead places of my life, the areas where I have ceased to grow, and let Him speak life into me. I also long for life to be breathed into those around me, to be witness to the regeneration of God's people, knowing it changes the landscape considerably.
Maybe it is the child that now occupies space within me, or the day that we soon embark on or the time of year for me that it represents. Whatever stirred my heart, I am grateful. I am grateful for God's revealing.
To you Moms...you are ever in my thoughts and prayers. As we celebrate a holiday that focuses on all that a mama does, I think of what you did. You sacrificed the life of one you longed for, though it wasn't your will, and submitted to the will of a Father who holds the answers, but more importantly, our lives. Holding fast to eternity because you know that our true hope is only found in Him and He never fails us.