“You must once and for all give up being worried about successes and failures. Don’t let that concern you. It’s your duty to go on working steadily day by day, quite quietly, to be prepared for mistakes, which are inevitable, and for failures.” – Chekhov
This week I am thinking long about love that wipes and tends, smiles, scolds, sighs weary and coos appreciative.
I am thinking about mother artists with their chisels and detail brushes and cracked hands, nails all filled with the day’s clay. I am thinking about mothers who know their art.
And I am thinking about mothers crumpling when the art envisioned does not shine as imagined.
This week I am seeing mothers set timers to tend toddler sons who might stop breathing and need a change of position. I am watching her rock her lovely boy, his young skin taut and tinged blue. I imagine her heart beating, her breath slowing, racing to meet his.
This week I am seeing mothers bend low to hear, to hug long, to join in, to listen with wonder to stories of miniature animals and weary travelers.
I am seeing mothers lose tempers and tire of the everyday everydayness of it all. Those same tasks. The meal to prepare. The dishwasher to unload. The same reminder about where shoes and coats go. That marker-stained table with its same piles day after day.
The grind is grinding, and I am watching that slow and fast struggle. I am living the slow and fast struggle.
This week, I learned about Ruth. A poor woman, a foreigner, an outcast. A woman who woke early day after day to glean fields, to pick up the harvest leftovers and provide for herself and the elderly mother-in-law to whom she’d sworn faithfulness.
Each day, back-breaking labor. Each day, bags filled with fruit of her love sweat.
Day after day.
I’m thinking today of you.
Of your heart. Of your attention and devotion, of your care. I am thinking of those hours and days you pour out in your labor, your art. Those hours stooped, gathering.
None of this for nothing.
All touch, look, and act filling soul and stomach of one who needs you, loves you.
Those beautiful someones.
All of them — and you — exquisite, imperfect pieces of art.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
Oh my. Just simply. Oh. My. Tender-heartedness once again makes its way to the page. words soft, delicate, tenderly, carefully chosen, ending in a tender knowing vision of what it is to mother or father. Simply. beautiful.
Thank you, Mama. Bless you, beautiful mama.
thanks for this little note. feels like you wrote it just for me today! xoxoxo
That makes my heart so glad, friend.
Thank you!!!!!!!!
Thank you. And you’re welcome. :) Love!
Thank you.This needs to be published. I can see you writing it and know every word is from your heart. Love Mom
Thank you, Mom. You’re right — each word is.
Every day another gem.Your passion for truth and insight provides us with much to think about. Does not our heart give us the emotional canvas to feel, and express and appreciate?
Thank you so much for your comment, Papa. I love that — heart as emotional canvas. So that the heart itself is central to the art. Beautiful thought.
Beautiful thoughts and blessings from a beautiful mama herself!
:) Thanks Sis.
Soft words. True words. Words laden with promise, rest, and even a call to action.
Love.
Thank you for your beautiful comment and words of affirmation, Anna.
Oh Ashley, how did I miss this the first time you posted it. When you write I am stirred and especially when the ink of your pen is dipped in your mother well. Thank you for being at Adagio and sharing at Adagio. I am grateful to have you there with your slant, your insight, and the beautiful way in which you see this life. The messy and fatigue and worry can overtake, could overtake….but take joy, be encouraged and press in with love. ((()))) I love the Chekov quote but even more your words which flowed from it.
Dear friend. Thank you for your words. You did not miss it. :-) This was from just about a year ago when I was newly into my blogging journey, and you and I were not yet connected. It’s hard to remember when I didn’t know you through the written word. Thankful for you, friend!