Saturday, June 28, 2014

Breath Moments



There are moments every day that I wish I could capture forever in my head and heart.

Never forget.

Taking pictures and writing are part of how I remember.

Video recordings were crucial when the kids were little because the sleepless nights, endless feedings, and diapers sucked all my memories into a vortex.

There are still countless moments I miss-- a mama lost in daydreaming or huffing to catch my breath.

But, for the occasions I am present, I am struck breathless with delight in the good interactions between my children.

I observed my two boys this week as they rested on a lavish couch in an orthodontist's office.  

Wall to ceiling windows provided us a view of the city.  Angry clouds pregnant against the skyline, raindrops finally splattering the glass, trickling like tears and blurring our view.

We reclined in a room stuffed with antiques-- ornate carved wood and sculpted bronze.

I made the observation out loud that it appeared we were in the Professor's study from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

One boy playfully speculated that an enormous chifrobe against the wall was not what it seemed...it really must be the doorway to a frozen world.

After a while, the girls nestled near me playing games on my phone to pass the time.

Watching my boys laid back laughing and talking to each other, unaware of anyone else in the room, brought joy to my heart...a prayer that this would be their future relationship.
  
When they fly from our nest.

This all was a taste of heaven (and later a taste of not-so- heaven as we waited for 2 hours in the waiting room, but that's another story involving my deep desire to stab myself with dental equipment).

These breath moments are sweet to my soul.

This morning Little Bitty was perched in my lap, her teeny nose turned up, tiny hands tenderly resting on my cheek as she sniffed.

She gazed down and back up again for a long inhale.

Breathing in my scent.

Her dark eyelashes fluttered as she peered back up, nose enveloping my smell.

The lashes naturally curled, framing dark eyes.  

Perfect.  An angel face.

Frizzy hair from a night's sleep-- in need of taming.

Forty years and I've never groomed a little girl's hair like hers.

Ringlets past her waist.

God's mercy to make us so different, yet so much alike-- both a desire to be seen and known.

All of us imprinted with that longing by our Maker.

As she inhaled again I asked,

What are you doing?  are you sniffing me? 

Yes, mommy, you smell good. 

A breath of heaven moment.

She noticed a picture on my computer screen as I was placing an order for homeschool curriculum.

An advertisement with a random mom and kid whizzed by as I scrolled to make the payment. 

And she asked the question.

Is that my new mom?

My breath caught in my throat.

I kissed her forehead, breathing in her scent.

No honey, I'm your mom in your family now.

She held up three brown fingers and my stomach tightened, knots twisting and turning tight, anticipating the words that were coming.

My breath shallow as the words slipped out of her lips,

I have 3 mommies.  

Our heaven-moment ruptured, shattered around me.

She hopped down.  On to something else.

Bare feet slapped the honey-stained oak floors as she galloped to her room to play beach with her sister.  

Her hair bouncing in a high pile on top of her head.

Her sing-song voice rambling as she twirled her fur-trimmed princess purse.  

The Tinkerbell nightgown swaying above her chubby mocha legs.  The sleeves an airy tulle.

And I was left alone trying to pick up the pieces that I can't put back together.

Breathing is sometimes hard.

In the moments when I'm surprised by His goodness.  

And in the moments I'm knocked off guard.

Because I can't scramble to repair broken hearts.  Fragments of my own heart surrounding me like splintered wood.

I pray for the only Restorer to heal and repair brokenness.

Give strength for the unknowns in all our lives.

The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.  You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.  Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations; you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.  (Isa 58:11-12)



2 comments:

Teresa Coelho said...

you are a beautiful writer

Jeanne Takenaka said...

Melanie, I could picture so clearly what you shared. And parts of your story resonate with my own heart. Our adopted boys bring me to those taste of heaven moments, and then they'll say something to remind me I'm not the first mom they knew. Almost, but not quite. And those sweet moments when my boys willingly hug each other and laugh together? I try to cherish those too, because I know they'll be gone too soon.