The words just wouldn’t come. I agreed to write five devotions on motherhood and the deadline was fast approaching. But I couldn’t seem to wrap my thoughts around what I was trying to say. The more I typed, the more flustered I became. They were due Monday morning and I could feel the pressure mounting. I pleaded with the children to play outside in hopes of finishing just one complete thought.
Minutes later I heard their laughter and strategic plans to venture to the creek. First they’d stop deep in the woods at the barn that still lingers of tobacco. And then with BB guns in tow, they’d trek up the hill and past the deer tracks.
I pecked at the computer about the privilege of motherhood and the importance of building a solid foundation. And I lingered as I read:
Point your kids in the right direction – when they’re old they won’t be lost. Proverbs 22:6 (The Message)
With a sigh, I turned the computer off and pushed my chair under the desk. It would have to wait. The words came later, they always do. But in that moment, motherhood was about playing. It didn’t require deep theology or over thinking or imaginative alliterations, it didn’t even require lip gloss. It just required time. Time to explore acres of old farmland, skip rocks in a muddy creek and collect leaves in the deep woods of our backyard.
And being a mother in that moment was far better than writing about it.