I have fond memories of my Grandma’s porch swing. The time we spent just gazing into the distance, the mountains and blue skies of Colorado are a memory I will hold dear forever. My Grandma is a strong woman, always up for the remodeling task at hand, but after she would get done working I could always count on those familiar words.
It was an invitation to be and nothing more. An invitation to talk, to be soothed by the back and forth rhythm of the chains gently creaking against themselves. I knew that to be a constant in my childhood.
When Jesse asked my what I wanted for Mother’s Day, I knew the answer- a porch swing. I want to give my kids the same thing my Grandma gave me, herself. I want to just be with my kids; to give them that space to fill as they wish. That constant, soothing rock and presence of Mom.
Now, of course I also remember the times when the swing would fall from the porch and each time after that it was a gamble to sit on as a group. (We still tease my Grandma about that.) And the times as a kid when we would swing a little too high and knock into the brick wall. (Discipline usually ensued after that.) But, isn’t the journey of motherhood similar to the porch swing?
Most days it’s all routine; back and forth, back and forth. Wake the kids, dress the kids, feed the kids, occupy the kids, bathe the kids and do it all again the very next day. Wash the laundry, make the meal, load the dishwasher. It’s a constant, a rhythm. And then there are those days when you hit the brick wall or the swing just falls out from underneath you all together. Oh yes, those days when it’s hard to find the soothing rhythm but you long for it so.
Motherhood is the great equalizer. It’s a great teacher, a 200 grit piece of sand paper to the selfishness of the will and a testament that God still performs miracles inside the womb. Today I am so thankful to be on the journey.