September 7, 2013
We brought these kids to life, you and I.
Living breathing people. Humans with teeth and hair and elbows and we did that. They were nothing but a sliver of love on a branch that was made into a swing that we sat on one day when you proposed to me, and now they are all here, in our rooms, vibrating our walls with their sounds and tears, and their laughter that causes my lips to pull up at the sides and my skin to shimmer with a chill. God is here too. He is our ultimate parent. Breathing life into our bodies and creating us to dance and feel and taste and joy. Oh joy.
But why? I think for love.
It’s all for naught if there is no love.
It beams out of us like rays of sunshine on a day when there are clouds, and you think you don’t need your sunglasses, but then the sun comes through and it makes you squint, and then you’re reaching into your bag and your fingers search for your glasses, because your eyes hurt from the brightness. It’s like that. Love.
For me it’s these tangled moments where all this stuff is happening around me and dinner is on the stove and the baby has his hand in the dog’s water bowl and the older kids are arguing over a green marker and then the late afternoon sun comes through the window. It’s filtered light shining all over the messy table and bouncing around the room, and I realize that I’m in love. With the noise and the chaos and the voices because they are my voices. They are our legacy. They are our love.
Our living love shooting around our house with teeth and hair and elbows.
And I am in love.