Staples

Our dear Julia likes to twirl.

At our friend’s home Christmas evening, she twirled, got dizzy, and dashed her head against the corner of a wall. She screamed when she saw the blood.

The doctor stapled the wound and she sleeps quietly now. It made me think about her need for me, how she called for me over and over again, though I stood right next to her, holding her, whispering comfort to her. This time with my children is fleeting. They won’t always call out my name. They won’t always need me to hold them. But I think I’ll always need them.

I wrote this tonight with a needy heart. Oh how I long to love my children well, to appreciate the stage they’re in right now, to relish the moments that fly away like startled crows. Jesus, sweet Jesus, who came as a baby and grew up to die, help me to love my children with such a love as You have. Amen.

Fragile, so fragile
Our children on earth
Fleeting, yes fleeting
In sadness and mirth

Agony, such agony
In bearing young cries
Holding and holding
Progeny’s deep sighs

Growing, more growing
They reach to the sun
Babies, grown babies
From us they must run

Needing, not needing
Protective embrace
Away, far away
A pain we must face

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