1 Tim 2:15 But women will be saved through childbearing….
My children remind me of my long-lost innocence. Sometimes, I imagine that I emerged from the womb knowing. I believe I was born with this weight on my shoulders, and blood on my hands. But the truth is that my eyes were clear and pure just like theirs are.
And their trust reminds me that mine was broken. Like a thief comes to steal, except it wasn’t quiet and stealthy. It was a screaming, burning, explosion. Destroyed, like the bombed-out homes of war torn countries. I was ripped open from end to end, from here to forever. Trust? Something I never heard of, yet my children extend it to me like a heavenly gift.
My arms wrap around them, keep them safe. My daughter frowns in frustration when I won’t allow her to go online. I’m protecting you. There are bad men out there, who could hurt you. She holds my warnings suspect in her mind; she can’t imagine an evil like that.
How do I protect them? How do I save them from this burden I carry? How do I teach them to love themselves, and hit back when someone touches them after “no”?
I see them clearly; beautiful like an angel’s song, pure like streams of water flowing from the tree of life. They don’t understand, how heaven opened up and love descended upon me like a dove the moment I held them in my arms. I have been trusted with something beautiful, and it made me beautiful again.
My heart, once laid to waste like a desolate city, became alive again with singing and dancing and good wine. The smell of their hair, the sparkle in their eyes, the light of their smile; it’s all a prayer to me. The fragrance of God. When they hug me, it’s the holiest of holies in my soul. They don’t even know it, but they redeemed me. They lead me to the water of forgiveness. I was born, when they were born.