Friday, March 16, 2012

The melting of a mom's heart.

There are some things that just melt a mom's heart.

We carry our babies within us, loving them from the moment we know of their existence.
We prepare for their arrival with eager anticipation.
Then they enter our world and reshape our entire existence.
From that moment on, they carry our heart with them in each footstep.
In each heart ache.
In each celebration.
As a mom, we are certainly needed.
From the first feedings and diapers to laundry, drivers licenses and high school graduations.
In all of that we are needed.

Then, as they each reach adulthood, we watch them sprout wings and fly.
Perhaps they fly far away.
Perhaps they come home a few times in the practice of flight.
Perhaps they only come home for visits here and there.

Sometimes they may come home for a quick hop on the internet for something they need.

Sometimes they come home to raid the refrigerator of all the leftovers.

Mom: "No more leftovers until these containers come back!"

Maybe they come home for a nap on the couch.
Maybe they come for a home cooked meal.
Maybe they come to wash their laundry.
Maybe they come to just hang out and visit a while.

Sometimes they come home just to come home
and sometimes they still have a need that a mom can fulfill.
Even for a brief moment in time.
And for that brief moment, a mom feels needed
once again.
She has seen and she has smiled from her heart.
Her child has wings that have learned to fly and is soaring.
Yet she still yearns to nurture, nourish and protect.
She always will.

These are photos that I took this week of Brock, our middle child, and his food haul.
He is currently in Phoenix again working and has plans for college in the fall.
I also celebrate my other adult children in this post.
Alyx is far away from us in Alaska.
I wish she could come home for dinner and a load of laundry.
Maybe sometime soon.
Our oldest son, Blayde, is paving his own path as well.
It has been a while since I saw his smiling face each day.
I am proud of each of them.