I come from a family of artists – my father is a musician and a woodworker. When I say woodworker, I mean he carves intricate patterns into wood and shapes those pieces into works of art. My mother can sew beautifully, cross-stitch like no one I’ve seen and can paint. My brothers both are artists in their own right, creating amazing things on paper and canvas. My sister can take a piece of leather and make it into the most interesting accessory.
I on the other hand can’t draw my way out of a paper bag and am mediocre where music is concerned. So, I wonder, what do I have to offer the Father? He has not chosen to bestow on me any visible talent. My hands are not capable of creating like the others in my family.
He has called me to something though, He has called me to be a Mother. So, I give them these feet that run to my children – that dance with them. I give Him these arms that hold them when they hurt and cuddle them when they need love. I give Him these hands that make meals to fill their bellies, change their diapers, and wipe away their tears. I give him this mouth that gives them kisses and strives to speak words of blessing to them.
These are the things that I have to offer my Lord. These humble offerings – the artwork of Motherhood.