Mother's Day

Sometimes a girl has to stay up too late. Just to think. To think about all the stuff, important stuff in her life. Being a mom, a wife, a friend, a crummy housekeeper. All the stuff of life that makes her smile, like being the only one awake and listening to the snoring. If they are snoring and near enough for her to hear it; then they are safe. And somehow; illogically its because of her.
She thinks at least at this moment, she is certain beyond certain that she knows she would die or kill to protect.
The passion of it so strong her heart quickens. the physical,  organic, visceral love aches and soars, coursing, throbbing.
But will she live for Him? Will she acknowledge Him in her living, in her laughing? Explain how He catches her tears and especially cherishes the ones unshed, unseen, bitten back.
How good, how kind He is.
Her life and all its stuff is all about Him. Because of Him.
With a grateful sigh she knows it is He who makes the ordinary extraordinary. The fallen upright.
So she can stand.