For the mothers. And all the ugly lovely that fills your every day.
I think:
The cracks on your hands from washing thousands of dishes are lovely - for they show commitment, selflessness, responsibility, and humility.
The stains are your shirt are lovely - for they are testimony to the embrace being more important than the perception.
The stickiness of your floor is lovely - for it shows no pretense, but remembers the realities of your chaos, and the care you constantly give to it.
Your bare arms on a cold spring day are lovely - because the wet little girl wrapped in your jacket is testimony to love, and to puddle splashing being sometimes more important than practicality.
The dirty diapers in your rubbish bin are lovely - for they show the gentleness, commitment, and selflessness required for the most simple and crucial and monotonous of tasks.
The time you burst into tears at the check out counter was lovely - for it showed humanity embraced by courage. If you were filled with paralyzing fear, you would never have made it to the store.
The toys strewn across the floor are lovely - for they speak of laughter, of financial sacrifice, of learning, and of play.
The germ infested thermometer in the sink is lovely - for it tells of gentleness, of accepting harm along with the good, and of preparedness put to use.
The used tissue on the bathroom counter is lovely - for I know it wiped your tears when you ducked into the bathroom to cry silently away from wondering eyes, to spare them from your humanity just a little longer so their world can be unshaken for a few more moments.
And I think you, in whatever state you're in, are lovely. Because the fact you are surrounded by the ugly lovely means you've stayed. You've stayed through the messes, through the tears, through the fits, through the brokenness, through the lost tempers (yes, even your own), through the long nights and early mornings. You've stayed. And staying is ugly lovely.
And while I love seeing the pictures of your beautiful children, and hearing your stories of amazing adventures, I know it's all possible because of the unnoticed ugly lovely. So, today, I call attention to, and I honor, the ugly lovely in your life and in mine - for it is the foundation for many beautiful things.
I think:
The cracks on your hands from washing thousands of dishes are lovely - for they show commitment, selflessness, responsibility, and humility.
The stains are your shirt are lovely - for they are testimony to the embrace being more important than the perception.
The stickiness of your floor is lovely - for it shows no pretense, but remembers the realities of your chaos, and the care you constantly give to it.
Your bare arms on a cold spring day are lovely - because the wet little girl wrapped in your jacket is testimony to love, and to puddle splashing being sometimes more important than practicality.
The dirty diapers in your rubbish bin are lovely - for they show the gentleness, commitment, and selflessness required for the most simple and crucial and monotonous of tasks.
The time you burst into tears at the check out counter was lovely - for it showed humanity embraced by courage. If you were filled with paralyzing fear, you would never have made it to the store.
The toys strewn across the floor are lovely - for they speak of laughter, of financial sacrifice, of learning, and of play.
The germ infested thermometer in the sink is lovely - for it tells of gentleness, of accepting harm along with the good, and of preparedness put to use.
The used tissue on the bathroom counter is lovely - for I know it wiped your tears when you ducked into the bathroom to cry silently away from wondering eyes, to spare them from your humanity just a little longer so their world can be unshaken for a few more moments.
And I think you, in whatever state you're in, are lovely. Because the fact you are surrounded by the ugly lovely means you've stayed. You've stayed through the messes, through the tears, through the fits, through the brokenness, through the lost tempers (yes, even your own), through the long nights and early mornings. You've stayed. And staying is ugly lovely.
And while I love seeing the pictures of your beautiful children, and hearing your stories of amazing adventures, I know it's all possible because of the unnoticed ugly lovely. So, today, I call attention to, and I honor, the ugly lovely in your life and in mine - for it is the foundation for many beautiful things.
