Linked by love of daughter and sport we sit hip to hip while day turns the corner to night.
A beautiful story dances off her lips, grace notes from God. Her life story. And in the linking up of momma time I receive blessing, the love marks, the inticate orchestration of time and events reveal His love.
A ball, a court, a game, and a room full of mothers hearts.
Time blurs by as balls bounce. We agree life is in the game. Lines blur differences between us, similarities soothe like bees sweet honey on red raw throat. Mothers hearts rest in comfort on common ground.
Balls whirl, whiz past ear grazing hair, body. We dodge right to miss blows, strikes, bruising of balls — life.
And hope pours through her words. I latch on.
A plan is bubbling for the Childs release outside of mommas nest. It oozes Joy and Hope and Delight. And I grab the kite tail of her hope for self. Knowing that after nest life can teem with life and good just as afterbirth does.
She invites, come ride. A break for coffee. She intices with promise of the more of the story.I decline, feeling the need to absorb story alone. Excitement invigorates and drains. Both, and. But I wait for the words bottled in her. Like effervescent bubbles shaken in need of release. Story shaken will burst forth soon.
And there is more. More Hope. Hope floats over our time and claims she has a handle on this mommas child’s life in the days, years ahead. Hope paints life with brush strokes of Promise and glory days. Glorious days of growing up and going on. Hope declares her delight in the future.
A daughter, a child drops cold on hard court and the air stills, stained with fear of pain. The moments expand while medics rush in. A brush with injury cripples the mothers hearts with what if’s. But all will be well. All is well this time.
Her hope for the future and her knowing that the plan is good takes shape in my dream. The life for my child is colored freshly with shades of redemption. Beautiful shades of hopeful life color.
Inspired by God’s mark on a life and the certain knowing that He desires perfect pairing of life and love They bring a measure of perfect peace.
Like narcissis push through cold earth blanket covers, a nod toward tomorrow’s potential, so she declares bold yellow promise for tomorrow.
But I want the end of the story, an ending wrapped up in Good. Frail Trust like a weary athlete ready to bow to defeat, wobbles, wanes—this is my trust.
This dance repeats daily. Hope grabs weak Trust and steps out with Joy to continue on the Life Dance. And authentic, honest, real life stories invite words of hope, healing.
She threads more sentences with pain parts, plans diverted, struggles. We link hearts on story of battle, disorder, changing tides, loss, love and heart-ache, brokeness. Hope waits patiently to step back in.
Balls stop bouncing, zinging, flying, whizzing by and play winds down, ends. And I’m stitching her Hope into the future of my child’s life.
I rest calmly, for now, knowing my fledgling one will find covering in Hope.
The end is uncertain.
But the Hope part is clear.
He leads, we follow.
The nest will have one less.
The time is measured in increments of love and Trust