motherhood as god's work.
I know God exists because of my children. Christian, Nolan, Emelia, and Sara’s existence is proof that love is the driving force of the universe.
Their souls are evidence that there is hope for us yet. Hope for those of us who were convinced that we’d make terrible mothers, those of us who sometimes hate motherhood, and those of us who are certain that our souls would be crushed by the pressure and responsibility of parenthood.
Because, despite it all, they love me and I love them. Even with our brokenness and our flaws, we are deeply in love.
That love extends to myself, and the love I have for the woman I’ve had to become to be their mother. I’m so damn lucky I get to be her for I’m positive that she’s more embodied, compassionate, kind, graceful, loving, and clever than I ever could have been without the four of them.
All the best things about who I am, these four have demanded from me. It’s been painful, but I’m better for it. Over and over again, I’ll be better for being their mother.
And maybe this is what mothers have always meant when they have described seeing God in their children’s faces. Maybe, finally, I’m beginning to understand how divinely orchestrated all of this is.