I feel crippled by language.
When she lies flat on her bed, dark hair swirling over the pillow, arms stretched toward the ceiling with chapters of Laura Ingalls gripped between her tender fingers, our black kitty cat curled at her side, I'm overwhelmed with adoration for the young girl she's becoming. I am overcome.
"I love you!" I proclaim from the doorway. Yet she doesn't lift her eyes from the page as she returns the sentiment.
Love. It's not good enough a word. It doesn't do the moment any justice.
And when he crouches on all fours with front teeth peeking over his shiny red lips -- he hisses and growls, then lunges at me, claws poised for implied violence, all the while suppressing his trademark grin.
I pounce back. He howls and tromps wildly around the room, then burrows into my lap to snuggle, because ferocity can only be sustained so long before affection woos the beast into submission.
"I love you!" I declare and cover him with kisses.
But I'm frustrated. Again, the words don't capture the fullness of my swollen heart. They're no good.
And when the setting winter sun shines through the storm door, revealing the oily streaks and prints pressed on the glass by tiny fingers, I turn my eyes to the toddler in my lap as we watch TV together on the couch.
I examine his always-growing hands and drink in the significance of their current smallness, knowing well that my years of clearing fingerprints from storm doors are small in number.
"I love you!" I whisper into his impossibly sweet ear.
Again, the words fall flat.
I wander through these days pondering poetry, scripture and song, reading the work of better writers and consulting the thesaurus for something new to contribute on the subject of motherly love.
I come up lacking. I fear I'll spend my life looking for the name of what it is that flows out of me and onto these little lives I'm privy to.
And I'm wondering: Is this how Christ intends to cement a place in my life? Is this what he meant?
When she lies flat on her bed, dark hair swirling over the pillow, arms stretched toward the ceiling with chapters of Laura Ingalls gripped between her tender fingers, our black kitty cat curled at her side, I'm overwhelmed with adoration for the young girl she's becoming. I am overcome.
"I love you!" I proclaim from the doorway. Yet she doesn't lift her eyes from the page as she returns the sentiment.
Love. It's not good enough a word. It doesn't do the moment any justice.
And when he crouches on all fours with front teeth peeking over his shiny red lips -- he hisses and growls, then lunges at me, claws poised for implied violence, all the while suppressing his trademark grin.
I pounce back. He howls and tromps wildly around the room, then burrows into my lap to snuggle, because ferocity can only be sustained so long before affection woos the beast into submission.
"I love you!" I declare and cover him with kisses.
But I'm frustrated. Again, the words don't capture the fullness of my swollen heart. They're no good.
And when the setting winter sun shines through the storm door, revealing the oily streaks and prints pressed on the glass by tiny fingers, I turn my eyes to the toddler in my lap as we watch TV together on the couch.
I examine his always-growing hands and drink in the significance of their current smallness, knowing well that my years of clearing fingerprints from storm doors are small in number.
"I love you!" I whisper into his impossibly sweet ear.
Again, the words fall flat.
I wander through these days pondering poetry, scripture and song, reading the work of better writers and consulting the thesaurus for something new to contribute on the subject of motherly love.
I come up lacking. I fear I'll spend my life looking for the name of what it is that flows out of me and onto these little lives I'm privy to.
And I'm wondering: Is this how Christ intends to cement a place in my life? Is this what he meant?
i think that every time a pastor talks about the different greek words for 'love' or for 'God' and how you use different words for different types of love. or when referring to God in different situations. i always ponder.. "why do we only have "love" .. just one word. we can use it for our spouse. our kids. a book. our Savior."
ReplyDeletebut i do believe your kids will "love" to read your words someday. and they will understand in their hearts what kind of 'love' you have for them.
You might not have found the words you wanted, but you've shown your love here nicely. These were beautiful glimpses into your heart and into your family. Well done, D!
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