I'm weary ....
We mamas are weary.
We are empty ...
poured out in love and tiny acts of service,
And we need your living water
to refresh our parched souls.
Yet we are often too tired
to make our way to the well,
or along the way too burdened and heavy laden,
slowed to a stop by the dragging feet of the very children you've given us to cherish.
We mothers know more intimately
the frustrations of Moses,
leading through the desert and bearing
the burden of the Israelites' complaints.
And how often are we, too, Jacob's children,
turning not in lament and lifting cries to you,
but walking along, complaining under our breath
oblivious to your loving presence in our midst?
There is so much to drag us down in this earthly life ...
There is pain,
There are hardships,
There is sickness,
And these burdens are oh, so heavy.
They threaten to break our backs when we
try to go it alone.
But we are not alone.
In the hardships of the Israelites' journey
they were led by a cloud by day
and a pillar of fire by night.
When they moaned and complained
of their hunger,
and longed for captivity again,
you were visibly present among them.
You provided even when they failed to ask sweetly
or be thankful for what they'd been given.
Even when you provided and Jacob's children repented and were thankful
the moment they were haunted again by that pit of need they lumbered off to find another God.
Something more tangible...
a golden calf...
a graven snake.
Even though you, God, were RIGHT THERE IN THEIR MIDST!
Oh, how long will we be a blind and deaf people?
How long will we rot in our despair
until we reach out and cling to the God who has been standing in our midst all along?
How long before we accept your outstretched hand
and crawl into your loving arms
and believe we are your precious, beloved child.
Despite our imperfections,
despite our failings,
because of our weakness.
As no human can possibly see us and know us and love us,
the perfection we long for is you, oh, God.