Today we carried
babies in our arms,
toddlers on our hips,
preschoolers as they flailed about in protest,
children that are not our own,
fierce hope for our kid’s success or safety or survival,
worry that things will never change or that everything could,
sorrow that the world is brutal and causes them pain,
grief for those we have lost,
heavy things we cannot put words to,
love that is larger than we are.
Today we poured ourselves out;
Tonight we lay ourselves down
in hospital recliners,
in hotel rooms,
in war zones,
hoping we have feathered our nests as best we could, wondering what we might have done better.
Gather us in tonight,
spread your fierce, wide wings around our own and give us rest.
Carry us when our feet feel like they can go no further.
Remind us that it all matters. All of it.
We are empty, but our hands are so full.
Fill us with your love once again,
coax our burdens from our weary hands.
Mother us, God, so we can rise again and mother them tomorrow.