Evanescent

There’s a peace that overwhelms me when I look at the evening sky. When the last of the suns rays are fading behind the mountains. The colors produced are ones that can’t be imitated. The darkness of the mountains is stark against the vibrant colors. The stars have yet to make their majestic entrance. It’s the moment where transition seems almost frightening. Will it be a starlit night or will the clouds roll in masking their grandeur? The fleeting moments of daylight illuminate peaks of high mountains that could be viewed as ominous. That transition where you are trying to figure out what will happen next. But when I look at that thin line of beauty, I am at peace. All the questions of the day are far from me and my soul settles. I am not pondering the vastness of space or the stars. I’m not contemplating the mountain ridges. I am thanking God for that last ray. That last stroke of color on his painting of the day. Thanking him for the air, my family, my friends. Thanking him that no matter where I am, physically, mentally or emotionally, he is there. His creation is my reminder. My ongoing souvenir. He is always with me. Always.

In life there are moments of transition where we may lose all of our peace. Where the evanescent rays of what lit our lives are sinking behind dark and ill lit mountains. Where uncertainty looms and the stars are not capturing our gaze and making us look upward. That moment we have a choice. We can abandon hope. We can count it all as lost. Or, we can realize that the sliver left is our memory and that God has bigger and better things waiting at the dawn of the next journey.

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I’m Sorry Momma

I’m sorry Momma.

I’m sorry that it took so long to figure it out. To see it. To understand. To get it.

I’m sorry that I savored every moment with Daddy, but neglected you.

I’m sorry that I caused arguments and tossed around my attitude ruthlessly.

I’m sorry that I never realized what you gave up.

When you took the role of a “working mom”, depending on Daddy to be the one to meet us everyday after school, you gave up so much. I’m sorry that in choosing to help provide us the very best life, Daddy gave up his nights and you gave up the afternoons with us.

I’m sorry that I didn’t acknowledge that, every night, you came home from 8 hours of working with all sorts of people and fixed dinner for us. I’m sorry that sometimes after working those 8 hours you had to stop at the store, or take us to the dentist or take care of another family member. I’m sorry that I never realized that you sacrificed so much.

I’m sorry that I thought I aggravated you in the kitchen, when in reality, you were just a well oiled machine, fixing dinner so that Daddy and the rest of us could eat and get into bed.

I’m sorry that I never considered us close, even though you often knew me better than I knew myself.

I’m sorry that I didn’t know that you spent time on your knees for me. That you spoke blessings over me. That you believed in me when no one else did. Because those were done in the quiet, in YOUR time. In YOUR way.

I’m sorry that the word “over-protective” came out of my mouth more than “thank you”. I’m sorry I didn’t see that you were loving me into one more day, and shying me away from danger.

I’m sorry that I took offense when you would say “Get up and just do it.” I thought you were pushing me too hard, when in reality you were saying “You are a strong woman. You can do it. Go for it!’

I’m sorry, Momma.

And for the record, you rock.

I love you . . .

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Dear Momma,

This week I saw a movie and I questioned what my kids thought about me as a mom. My situation isn’t completely like yours and Daddy’s, but it’s close. My eyes welled with tears, and my heart ached. I love my babies like crazy, but I miss out on so much it seems. It’s not because I WANT to, it’s just life. The parallel of our lives is insane and made me see how wrong my thinking of our relationship was. I just want you to know, I think you are amazing. You worked full time, raised 4 kids, lots of dogs, and even some best friends. You worked all day and came home only to work more. You never had a day off. Saturdays we cleaned and cooked. Sunday was church. Monday it started all over. I admire you and your tenacity and I only pray that I can be half the woman you are. I love you!

Your Oldest Daughter,

Jennifer