thatmom

real encouragement for real homeschooling moms

but just for today

mom-and-clayton-4

The sunrise crept in this morning, its rosiness spreading across an azure sky. I love November, the leaves nearly gone and the ground crunchy from frost. The days are gray and the evenings come early, everyone home and cozy around the supper table, no one needing to be begged to come inside and clean up. I fill the bird feeders and wait for that first nuthatch, the tiny titmice nibbling at leisure.

Thirty-one years ago today I was in labor, hoping the drug free delivery would be much better than the previous one I had suffered through, high on Demerol and who knows what else. I was not disappointed.

My son was pink and round, his little lips formed a perfect bow when he smiled in his sleep. The German nurses swaddled him in some sort of one piece cloth diaper/receiving blanket and warned me not to unwrap him. I couldn’t help myself, those tiny toes beckoning me, longing to be counted, his dimpled knees wanting a mommy touch. Carefully I pulled back the layers, one at a time, examining his wiggling body, ooohing and aaahing at the softness, soaking in that smell of a fresh baby.

Now he is grown with little ones of his own. I watch him wrestle and tease, squeeze and cuddle them. I see him kiss his wife and go out the door to work. I marvel at how much he reminds me of his dad. “Who is that man?” I ask. “Where did time go?”

My own dad had a sense of how fleeting time really is. He used to quote Psalm 103, reminding me that our days are like grass, but that the Lord is the one who is from everlasting to everlasting. Indeed, I know this truth, in those times when I long to go back to the day of small things, of nursing babies and of adoring toddlers who think I hung the moon. Oh, of course, I love older kids and the season of life where I find myself, enjoying the harvest and anticipating the coming feast.

But, just for today, I will close my eyes and remember that one November day, a long time ago, that soft Alpine snow that dusted the fields and houses of our little village, the whimper of a new born child entering this world, my world. And I will thank God for the gift of a precious son who has brought us so much joy wrapped in such a tiny package. Happy, happy birthday, Clayton.

“As a father has compassion on his children,
so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;
for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.
As for man, his days are like grass,
he flourishes like a flower of the field;
the wind blows over it and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.
But from everlasting to everlasting
the LORD’s love is with those who fear him,
and his righteousness with their children’s children-
with those who keep his covenant
and remember to obey his precepts.”

Psalm 103:13-18

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2 Comments»

  Kim wrote @

Awww, Karen! That made me cry!

Blessings on you and yours today, dear friend!

  Susie wrote @

Oh my! I was just scrolling down looking at the picture and thought, ‘Oh, there’s Mollie with one of her babies.” Then I started reading and figured out it was you, Karen! Then the picture became even sweeter after reading the story.


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