we were three-in-one. three-at-one-time.
many didn't believe because two looked so same and one looked almost as different as possible.
we are three. share the same birth-day, shared womb space and milestones, and now we are all mothers.
classification happens when our brains need ordering, and apparently it was necessary and easy to arrange us in three distinctions.
she was pretty.
she was "crazy."
i was smart.
labels become home, but can stifle.
i think we all wanted to be free and beautiful and intelligent. we mostly wanted to be ourselves.
the crazy one surprised us all by being the most maternal. she gave birth first. she mothers the rest of us, too. the pretty one was last to start her family, and the smart one has the largest brood. i think we are all a little surprised some days.
i've had the fun chance to overlap pregnancies with both of my sisters. now is no exception. kathy, the pretty one, has been pregnant with twins, and she welcomed her little girls into the outside world this week. not one of us would have pegged her to be the one with two-at-once, but she's done a beautiful job growing those girls and allowing heart to embrace two more.
we don't know if they are identical or not, but we three, we wonder how the labels will define and constrict. we wonder how these little girls will become their own, and i can't wait to meet them.
in a season of a weary heart, the little blessings are what anchor us. i praise God for the healthy arrival and delivery of my newest nieces and thank him, too, for blowing promise kisses to my soul. he is here. he loves us. he is enough.
4 comments:
"in a season of a weary heart, the little blessings are what anchor us."
Amen and amen. I thank Him for "blowing promise kisses to your soul," too.
xo
"promise kisses" . . . I love that. And may these babies bless you all!
Sometimes I read a post and want to comment, but don't just want to type up some thoughtless, trite praise. Sometimes, I just need to let a post simmer for a while until I can figure out what it is I want to say. Was on a retreat this weekend and heard this--the past doesn't define us. We tell our stories as testimonies of who we were and what God has done. Our identity (as women) is as a daughter of the King. This isn't anything new, but when the speaker said it, I remembered this post. May your sweet children and dear nieces all set aside any labels the world may try to give them and see themselves ever and only as children of their heavenly Father. Love, Nancy (the tall one)
misty ,
your words make me ache and fill my heart at the same time.
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