sins of the mother

my instincts and experience tell me that most women are on the abortion table because they are alone and very, very afraid. until we can support these mostly young women with love and healing rather than judgment, shame, and abandonment, the choice to abort will seem like the only desperate option…. it is not the callous birth-control of afterthought which you suggest, but rather fear that motivates.but where there is love there is hope.

it is ,rather like the choice of this nation, made in fear rather than hope will likewise lead to continued killing (war) for perceived safety and self-protection.

However, I pray to a God who understands choices made in fear and choices made in love and who understands with the deepest of compassion which are which. I pray to a God who embraces and uses our choices to recycle hope, leading us through our very choices toward healing, wholeness and a greater Love.

And so i trust that God will receive the choices of this frightened adolescent nation, wounded perhaps in its own stage of identity crisis, seeking to define itself by labeling what is not itself as evil, then drawing lines of black and white in the sand in order to inflate and protect its fragile ego….a nation who cannot see beyond its own self-interest to love something outside itself, or to take on another role in the world.

when the adolescent morality (ie for me to be good, you must be bad since you’re different than me) which inspired the voter yesterday matures into responsible moral behavior in the world, we will then see clearly the path upon which we have been Loved and led.

Sins of the mother

Her voice floats down like incense
And fills my soul with glee
But then she chases harmony with pain
I wonder why she scorns herself
I pray it’s not from me

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

How can I make her see
The beauty that is she
When she believes the lies she tells herself
I wonder where she learned them
I pray it’s not from me

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

I wish my breasts had fed her
My arms had made her safe
My lullaby had filled her with relief
I wonder when fear’s doubt crept in
I pray it wasn’t me

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

She longs to be the special one
The one they all envy
Yet love is what she craves inside her heart
I wonder who rejected her
I pray it wasn’t me

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

I’d hoped my eyes had held her
My words had shone her grace
My laughter more than anguish been her food
How was her selfhood tainted
I pray it wasn’t me

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

But joy is hard to fabricate
And pretense isn’t peace
And children see right through the games we play
I wonder when she noticed
Not in my womb, I pray

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

She bears the face of beauty
Her voice, it bares the soul
Of one who shares a dream with the divine
I wonder when she’ll see it
I pray it’s not from me

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

Because she won’t believe it
Unless it grows within
The trust that she is perfect as she is
I wonder if I planted it
I pray….oh god, I pray

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

I wish I were mirror
So when she looked at me
The beauty of herself she’d finally see
I wonder what she sees in it
I pray it isn’t me

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

For I am cracked and broken
No image of love pure
And I have failed to shine with clarity
I wonder will she love herself
I pray she won’t watch me

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

Her voice floats down like incense
And fills my soul with glee
But then she chases harmony with pain
I wonder why she scorns herself
I pray she’s not like me

Oh little girl
Oh little girl of mine

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Kyra On The Go

Adventures of a Paddling Triathlete

an algonquin affair

tales of one woman's ongoing love affair with the waters of Algonquin Park.

Abbey of the Arts

Transformative Living through Contemplative & Expressive Arts

Canoeguy's Blog

For those interested in restoring wood-canvas canoes

Nature's Place

The place of Nature in the 'ordinary' Spiritual Life through Meditation using Macro Photography to illustrate.

Katrina Kenison

celebrating the gift of each ordinary day

UnTangled

tell a redemptive story with your life. now.

%d bloggers like this: