I know their fantasies. Whispered in the semi-dark of their living rooms, or over coffee on our girls’ night out, they’ve confided in me what they really want. And I’m not shocked. Not one little bit. After all, it’s what I want too.
A hotel room.
A cup of tea.
And a book.
No one else. Nothing else. For one entire day.
And that is the true, wild fantasy of mothers everywhere.
Not only strange, unusual mothers, but average mothers, like you or me.
A mother who endures drafty showers because someone has burst in to ask her to tie on their ninja mask. A mother who rarely sleeps through till morning, and must nightly peal herself from bed and lurch through the house to lift and calm a teething baby. A mother who must clean a food-encrusted high chair three times every day.
And that is to say nothing of the raisins that get squashed on the bottoms of her slippers, the puddles of water and crumbs that appear as if my magic on her kitchen worktops, the mountains of laundry that move in cycles around her house, and all the toys that she must daily return to their homes on the shelf. The little fingernails she must cut, the beds she must make, the toilets she must scrub. The meals she must prepare, the dishes she must wash, the floors she must sweep.
This, all this, a mother must do. And how she longs to do it well! With joy, and patience, and grace, so that her children and husband and any guests who enter may be strengthened and comforted by their time there, in this mother’s home.
And yet motherhood is not a part-time job. It’s not even a full-time or a live-in one. There are no vacation or holiday packages. No weekends or nights off. And so it’s not hard to see why a mother—a mother like you or me—could get a little tired. Find herself longing for escape. A time of refreshment. A break.
Like hiding in the closet, maybe, with a bar of chocolate. A trip to the grocery store all by herself! Or that hotel, maybe? A trip, a real trip away? How about England? A country estate? Yes? Then come with me!
A virtual trip to England . . .
to the quiet and the green . . .
Hear the bird song. Smell the lavender. Let the grass tickle your feet.
Stop at the tent for tea and scones. It’s all here for you, so enjoy!
There’s a concert, too. Did I mention?
Right here in the gardens, underneath the sky.
David Crowder Band. Ever heard of them? Listen, will you? to what they have to say . . .
How He Loves
He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions
Eclipsed by glory and I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me
And oh, how He loves us,
how He loves us all
And we are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking
And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way
Oh, how He loves us,
how He loves us all
Singer: David Crowder Band
Songwriters: John Mark Mc Millan
Hope you were refreshed by your visit. Come back any time.
For more than sunshine. More than chocolate. More than a new outfit, or a girl’s night out. His love is what strengthens. Renews.
Bask here for a while in the immensity of it.
For you will never find the depths of Jesus’ love.
happy little sigh 