My Woman, My Woman, My Wife
She’s the cooker of the suppers and the planner of the parties. She’s the thinker of all the small things that keep our world spinning but are easy to overlook and the fixer of the childrens hair. She’s the singer of songs that lead people to the cross and the support I lean on when I grow weary. She’s the one that thrives at every job she has and the one that loves a thorough to-do list.
From the second we found out she was pregnant just a few months after we had gotten married, she’s been the mother I could have never imagined for our children. Motherhood came quickly to her, first as a surprise pregnancy and then as our son Hank was born three months early, but she took to it like a newborn foal takes to running around the pasture.
There’s just something inside of her that exudes mother; there’s a softness to her that draws people to her and comforts them. Maybe that’s what drew me to her that first time I watched her leading worship all those years ago.
We’ve got three kids now and she never fails to think of them in their own unique, special ways. Never fails to treat them as their own people with their own specific dreams, desires, and needs. Birthdays are always special, no matter how small, and car singalongs are always loud and filled with laughter, setting the weight of their little worlds and setting aside for just a few minutes.
One day there will be no little ones asking for a grilled cheese in our home and all of the permission slips will have been signed; before we know it the milestones we’re looking forward to will be memories we’re reflecting on. But she’ll always be Mama, like every good mother is. They’ll get older and so will we, but being a mother isn’t a season of life that comes and goes
