Elizabeth, I love that you see it this way. Your comment deepens my intention.
That God would choose to come to us in this most vulnerable way, to be birthed and nursed, to lie helpless, crying (and singing!) in the arms of his mother. Mmmmm 💛
Beautiful. You're poem is somehow a mirror image of Michelangelo's sculpture Pietà, poetically showing Mary as a young mother holding the corpse of her son at the end of his journey. His sculpture reminds us of Mary's knowing sacrifice, your poem of this child's own awareness of his journey, his own need for his mother's arms, from beginning to end.. Both beautifully connect the beginning to the end of this wonderful journey called life. Thankyou.
Ronald, I’m so glad that you could see the impulse behind this poem. Yes, the Pietà was the image lying under these words. The story unfolded as it was supposed to—as told by the prophets. I believe Jesus always knew, but spared his mother’s knowing. I only wanted to gesture lightly. I thought of including a jpeg at the end, but decided to let it be simple. Thanks again for reading with such sensitivity and for taking the time to share.
Go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body. - Walt Whitman
Oh Ann, there is so much tenderness in this... I feel that perhaps the infant is whispering or singing to the mother. How beautiful this too "Remember me like this, Mama
now and at the end." because I know I will.
When I held my first born in my arms for the very first time, I did not want to let go. The magic of creating a human life, one that I loved unconditionally, immediately was so overwhelming, the nurse had to prise her from me because she was worried I would never sleep again...
Susie, I apologize for the delay in responding to your words. Thank you for them.
I love this memory you and I both share. Those first weeks felt like a sweet blur for me, too-- babe and new mama orbiting each other like two moons. The force of that mutual adoration is one of the most soul-shaping experiences of a lifetime. I, too, had a lovely nurse, who convinced me to relax and take a shower, because she offered hold and rock my daughter all the while... Loved your chat with Eleanor, Susie! Always a special treat ❤️
No apology necessary ever for me Ann, I don’t think I’ve sent a prompt reply yet!
Those first weeks never leave us do they? A little like floating in a tiny slice of heaven with a tiny slice in our arms too… I can still feel the softness.
Thank you so much for listening in to the conversation, I was as tongue tied as I always am but I truly loved chatting with Eleanor, she is a wonderful host.
My wife is currently in nursing school—in class virtually as I type this, matter of fact! I think it’s important that we try to listen to what we’re called to do. It’s not something I find easy to navigate myself, but I’m working on it. I also think you’re right in that we need to help our kids find their calling. We need ‘em now more than ever.
Beautiful, James. I am a champion for living into our various callings, chapter by chapter, if we are able. Often with great sacrifice, but so worthwhile. Probably the best way to help our children discern their own calling is to reinforce the truth of their *intrinsic lovability* When a young person feels this truth--breathes it--the fruits of a loving life can be more easily recognized, gathered, and used, as only they uniquely can.
I'm sure you and your wife do this. And how wonderful for your kids to see you both joyfully and wholeheartedly listening for your own callings. 🔥
I’m so glad to hear that, Lisa. Our lives are always calling us. Sometimes when we have to slow down, because of illness or injury (I’ve definitely been there!) later, we can look back and see how it was helping open new doors for the future.
So gorgeous. Thank you!
Thank you, Mary. Your support is truly appreciated.
The idea of the newborn 'pretending' to sleep is beautiful and says everything about his identity. Thanks, Ann.
Thanks so much, Alan. You always understand where i’m pointing 💛
Ann, this is lovely. So tender. Thank you for joining the challenge.
Melanie, thank you for suggesting such a tender painting. What a poignant time for it.
Beautiful Ann. I feel the hushed, enveloping love in that painting and the words it inspired in you.
Kimberly 😘 you're the kindest.
The Baby singing a lullaby to Mary, calling for her to sing back ... !
Elizabeth, I love that you see it this way. Your comment deepens my intention.
That God would choose to come to us in this most vulnerable way, to be birthed and nursed, to lie helpless, crying (and singing!) in the arms of his mother. Mmmmm 💛
Thank you for reading.
The calling is ongoing and shifts, so I keep listening for it. Yes.
Such a quiet voice isn’t it? Thank you, Ron 💛
Beautiful. You're poem is somehow a mirror image of Michelangelo's sculpture Pietà, poetically showing Mary as a young mother holding the corpse of her son at the end of his journey. His sculpture reminds us of Mary's knowing sacrifice, your poem of this child's own awareness of his journey, his own need for his mother's arms, from beginning to end.. Both beautifully connect the beginning to the end of this wonderful journey called life. Thankyou.
Ronald, I’m so glad that you could see the impulse behind this poem. Yes, the Pietà was the image lying under these words. The story unfolded as it was supposed to—as told by the prophets. I believe Jesus always knew, but spared his mother’s knowing. I only wanted to gesture lightly. I thought of including a jpeg at the end, but decided to let it be simple. Thanks again for reading with such sensitivity and for taking the time to share.
Thank you, dear Conny! I’m hoping that your mom continues to recover. Peace to you both this week. 💛💛
Your poem is beautiful as is your prose afterwards 💛💛💛
Go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body. - Walt Whitman
Oh Ann, there is so much tenderness in this... I feel that perhaps the infant is whispering or singing to the mother. How beautiful this too "Remember me like this, Mama
now and at the end." because I know I will.
When I held my first born in my arms for the very first time, I did not want to let go. The magic of creating a human life, one that I loved unconditionally, immediately was so overwhelming, the nurse had to prise her from me because she was worried I would never sleep again...
Absolutely beautiful Ann — thank you ♥️xx
Susie, I apologize for the delay in responding to your words. Thank you for them.
I love this memory you and I both share. Those first weeks felt like a sweet blur for me, too-- babe and new mama orbiting each other like two moons. The force of that mutual adoration is one of the most soul-shaping experiences of a lifetime. I, too, had a lovely nurse, who convinced me to relax and take a shower, because she offered hold and rock my daughter all the while... Loved your chat with Eleanor, Susie! Always a special treat ❤️
No apology necessary ever for me Ann, I don’t think I’ve sent a prompt reply yet!
Those first weeks never leave us do they? A little like floating in a tiny slice of heaven with a tiny slice in our arms too… I can still feel the softness.
Thank you so much for listening in to the conversation, I was as tongue tied as I always am but I truly loved chatting with Eleanor, she is a wonderful host.
So beautiful, Ann.
Thank you, Margaret 💛
My wife is currently in nursing school—in class virtually as I type this, matter of fact! I think it’s important that we try to listen to what we’re called to do. It’s not something I find easy to navigate myself, but I’m working on it. I also think you’re right in that we need to help our kids find their calling. We need ‘em now more than ever.
Beautiful, James. I am a champion for living into our various callings, chapter by chapter, if we are able. Often with great sacrifice, but so worthwhile. Probably the best way to help our children discern their own calling is to reinforce the truth of their *intrinsic lovability* When a young person feels this truth--breathes it--the fruits of a loving life can be more easily recognized, gathered, and used, as only they uniquely can.
I'm sure you and your wife do this. And how wonderful for your kids to see you both joyfully and wholeheartedly listening for your own callings. 🔥
This post was exactly the thing I needed to read right now. Thank you!
I’m so glad to hear that, Lisa. Our lives are always calling us. Sometimes when we have to slow down, because of illness or injury (I’ve definitely been there!) later, we can look back and see how it was helping open new doors for the future.
Such an honest and clear-sighted commentary - it’s a rare thing!