We worry,
in fact it brings tears
right to the eyes
this nagging feeling
that these small lives
don’t matter
we know their small lives do
with their bellies needing food and their
potty accidents, their little hearts
and eyes crying out,
see me, and i need
the ones with the four legs have theirs, too,
of walks and meals
and play and affection
but what do we do with dreams
that don’t fit in the sink and washing machine,
or paw or even the little hand,
those that press and stir and shake when your
one stretched life feels
so small?
sure i’ve got dreams, she says,
but what good do those do me when this
(all this good and all this need and all this them)
is my life?
dreams feel more like pathetic fantasy than
anything real,
and the tears and snot fall hard onto the kitchen rug
as she says this,
and she braces herself at the sink,
and she’s opened clear up to it again
when she’s wiped her face and opened
the screen door,
her daughter asks what she’s been crying about
because they know these things,
and she answers,
oh, just life stuff, and the woman hates the words
as they leave her mouth,
but what do you say to a girl about dreams that
feel impossible to pick up again,
once you’ve laid them down?
what will she think when she knows too much about limitations and not
the joy of endless possibilities?
all week this woman thinks about smallness,
this one tiny life and how the hemming in
can bring focus right along with claustrophobic aches,
because there’s all the thanks and the praise and
the glimmer of light and
the flashes of toothy-ness
and the laying low to
pick up again
___
on a warm day in the park, the grass stretches
on every side,
the monkey bars and tire swings, all these options,
and they want this one tree
shaped like a brambly cup
they wear flip flops and too-fancy sandals,
but it doesn’t matter as they stretch across branches
and slide on back sides
and reach for another limb and clamber down and back up,
and they are not bound
as they free dangle from this
one tree
of all in this park, here’s what they choose,
and their faces scream full joy,
alive, alive, i’m alive!
as fingers grip smooth bark
and a shoe falls again from her foot
Linking with Jennifer and Emily.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
This stirs so many feelings in me. Thankful for your beautiful words, Ashley.
Thankful for you here, Becky. I’ve got lots of aching/longing/worried feelings going on these days, and lots of them seem to run as threads through the lives of so many mamas I love. Grateful for the one who holds all the loose ends.
We have to scream the full joy of our choice Ashley…and walk well, knowing we’ll have others. Taking deep breaths over the bruised truth youve shared here. I’m with you friend.
Amen to screaming the full joy of our choice, Lisha. Love how you said that. Yes, I am fully assured I’m where I’m supposed to be even as I work through the tugging, ya know?
Oh my Ashley, I feel you’ve said a lot in what you haven’t said. Love to you. Know I am with you in thought and prayer. You wrote this beautifully, swept me away with your words like always.
Shelly, thank you for understanding the unspoken amidst the words. I love poetry so much for that reason. And I am grateful for you here, sharing your love.
What’s meant for us won’t pass us by, Friend. So much love to you.
That truth gives me such peace, Brandee. Thank you. Much love right back to you!
Ashley, I once had a big dream to attend law school. I was accepted to Lewis and Clark Law School when my daughter was 2 years old. I still wonder 34 years later how my life would be different if I had become an attorney. How would I have been able to change the world. I chose instead to follow my dream of having a family and stayed home and raised my 2 year old daughter. I know how that dream turned out and she is magnificent. I made the perfect choice as difficult as it is to parent and live the everyday, humdrum life of laundry, dirty dishes, and skinned knees/ . I changed the world one child at a time. There’s nothing better than that. What was hard was I didn’t know it was the best choice at the time. Diapers somehow didn’t seem to feel as important as the courtroom. It just wasn’t very exciting or appealing to me. Boy was I wrong. God had the right plan for me.
Barb, I didn’t know about that part of your life and heart. It makes sense as you have such a hunger for justice and protection…and I see that all over the ways you care for children. Thank you for this glimpse into God’s beautiful ways that are so much higher than ours. Grateful for you. And I love what you said about your daughter: “she is magnificent.” Oh, that every mama would have eyes like that for her children. Love you.
Dreams must be the desires of God. It’s so often a timing issue, and what I’m learning is that no season is a waste of dreams – it is for layering and learning and losing the unimportant, making room for bigger stuff. You have all the time you need, dear Ashley. (preaching to myself).
” No season is a waste of dreams.” Tresta, that’ll preach. Layering and learning and losing the unimportant…man, I need to linger in that all day long, but…real life awaits. :-) So appreciate your wisdom and your voice. Always. xoxo
Consistent Beauty and Grace… (and I need more of you in my life, too!)
Thank you for your blessing. So looking forward to seeing you!
Dreaming with you Ashley in the small places where God is making big dreams come alive….xxxooo
What a beautiful blessing, Kelly. I receive that with JOY and pray the very same for you, beautiful dreamer.
I hear you sister….thank you for sharing the pain and the beauty…holding you in my heart.
Dea, thank you so much for that.
It’s hard to remember our dreams we had before mommihood set in. Our kids are a great, daily reminder of how life is meant to be lived.
Perspective shifters for sure. Grateful for the refining of this mama’s heart through parenting these little people. Humbling and gratifying and maddening and joy-making…so much life. Thanks for your presence here.
Oh my goodness Ashley, what beauty and what a place your words have deposited me to. Wow. Just… yes, just wow.
Thank you, dear friend. Truly looking forward to soaking in your words sometime very soon. I love our shared affection for poetry…so fun to be gotten in that way.
Oh friend, sometimes it’s like you write the inside of my soul. Love you so much, friend.
Alia, it blows me away how God works through our words and stories to speak shared truths. Immensely grateful for being able to journey with you.
Fabulous. Just perfect, Ash.
Bless you, love. Thank you.
Dearest Ash, What words can I put to the feelings you’ve stirred in me? What words to the agonizing and ecstatic images you’ve painted here? You stun me – beautifully. You have, ever since I first held your dear baby body and looked into your vast eyes. There are no words I can use Ash. You’ve spoken the ones I feel.
(I’m so happy you chose a poem to tell this story! I love you so.)
Thank you so much, Mama. Something about poetry gets to those hard to reach places. Grateful for the way God helped me know what was going on as the words poured out. I love you.
Lovely words that bring back memories of when my children were small. Be encouraged–your life, poured out day after day into your family, is not small or insignificant.
Found your site at Jennifer Dukes Lee’s link-up.
Thanks so much for your visit, Constance, and for those life-giving words. Grateful you stopped by.
You inspire me as a grandparent :)