A Poem on Mothers Day 



how God blessed her

to give life to a little one with tiny face,

with hands that reach out

for what they do not even know. Yet she knows them

and they begin to find the closeness of the one

who gave and then would give.



how desire strong to know—

in the fall and after fire—

would burn not where it should and find

division instead of good.

The giver now discovers less

and in the end sons carry curse.



though pains multiply and swords

would pierce the hearts of those who treasure up these gifts—

the grand design of God

though humble, hidden for a thousand years

through tears and death a firstborn son would rise

and recover more than life once lost.



that the striving of the ground

and every weary sigh

are signs that our lament is not the end but

in a cry of glory sure our hands

are caught up in a grasp of life,

forever held in joy secure.


This poem draws from things said in the Bible in Genesis 1–3, Luke 1–2, and Romans 8 especially. The idea I want to contemplate here is that God’s design for motherhood and nurturing love, though wrecked by the Fall of Adam and Eve and now often painful and tiring, is rescued by Jesus in a way that will eventually bring an end to pain and tears and death. I think that is good news for all of us, and cause for great hope. I fondly and gratefully have my mother, my wife, and many who give motherly love in mind as I write this.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s