You make beautiful things out of dust. You make beautiful things out of us. -Gungor

I took my boys out to see The Odd Life of Timothy Green yesterday. From the previews I thought it would be cute and kind of silly but I did not think I would ball. Yes ball. Catch-my-breath-face-wrinkled-up-dripping-nose-dripping-with-tears-wet-faced ball. Sometimes the dam that holds back the flood is broken with a flicker from a Disney film.

If you want to see the movie and haven’t yet, SPOILER ALERT!

 A husband and wife, longing to have children, unable, faced with the reality decide to write down who their kid would be if they were able to give him birth. They place their dreams in a wooden box and bury it in the garden. A stormy night waters their wishes and a 9 or 10 year old boy covered in mud is delivered. Sounds silly I know. But I guess God could have designed kids to be born out of the garden if He wanted to.

The creation obeys the Creator. He commands birth out of bloody wombs. It’s no less a wonder. No less magical. Maybe we’re just used to the magic of birth by wombs.

For some, their children were born just as magically as Timothy Green, out of dreams, prayers offered, longings buried. The Creator places the fatherless in families. Yes, many times the fatherless are the ones being rescued from a terrible place, but the Creator also gives barren women a family, lifting her out of her hopelessness.

Whether we have children from our wombs, or from prayers and others’ wombs, the number of days we get with them and our inability to perfectly parent them is a reality we fight against. Just like Timothy Green’s parents.

The truth is the time we get to plant seeds of love and truth in the lives of the children we’ve been miraculously granted to raise is a great gift and responsibility. We are forever changed in the process. We get the privilege and high calling of guiding a life. We try so hard to do it right but we don’t.

We have to entrust our kids to the Savior of children of raised by sure-to-not-get-it-all-right parents.

My kids are gifts. Not because they are gifted. Not because they’re my trophies. Not because they make me look good. They are just gifts from the God who makes life grow out of dirt and wombs and messed up parents.

 I treasure every moment I get to be a mom. I pray for the grace to make right decisions in raising them and I fall on the grace that saves us both! What a gift. What a gift!


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