puke buckets and destiny.

I have a momma's heart. 

I'm writing from the playroom oversized chair. The boys are vomiting in turn, sitting up sad in bed and crib. Big brother is silent and brave, almost like he knows the drill. He finishes and lies back down, and I wipe his lips with a wet cloth. 

"Nanny, will you bring me a bucket?" 

"Yes, baby, I will." 

Little brother is more distraught. This bug is vicious and mean, which explains why his feelings are so hurt by it all. 

"I want to make me feel better." 

"I want to make you feel better too, love." 

"Nanny, will you watch over me?" 

"Yes, buddy. I will." 

They (whoever "they" is) say that motherhood is sacred- that every day acts of diaper changing and feedings and laundry loads are somehow holy, anointed and appointed by Jesus. and I say I believe it. But then I hold his four year old little body up while he succumbs to the wicked virus and I feel his muscles wrench beneath my touch. and I feel it. 

I feel it in my hands all the way to my heart that this will forever and always be the most "right" thing I could ever hope to do. I just can't imagine my heart beating stronger. 

It's strange to say, but this whole kid world? It fills me up. It always has. Folding towels and cleaning the lint trap again feels somehow like scraping out all that's clogging my soul. I don't expect these feelings of melodrama to last, and I'm not blind to the HARD of being a parent. But I'm soaking in these moments of belonging. I belong in this world, with puke buckets and sticky hands. 

I'm in nursing school. Almost done with nursing school, actually. and I love it. I really truly love it. I love problem-solving, and I love decision-making, and I love the pace and the conversation. 

But tonight, I'm remembering my first calling. My truest one. I feel God's favor on this destiny that he's set deep down in my bones. There are times, even now, when it wipes me out flat. But more often than not, it fills me up. to my core. Not physically- kids are alllll kinds of exhausting- but in an important, intangible way I'm not sure I could describe. 

I was made to be a mother. A fierce and powerful mother. 

And I'm not waiting to step into that identity. Because it matters now. 

I was made to stand alongside and raise them up tall, to hold them up when they're sad or scared or sick as a dog. 

So I will do that. Even now. For a few hours with the babies on weeknights and weekends, and for every moment in between with those beating hearts that crave belonging and hope. 

... They're asleep now, two sweet boys. 

and my heart is full. 

my momma's heart is full.