Dear weary mama,

I cannot help but think of you, weary Oklahoma mama. I’ve been heart-heavy over your own heart-heaviness. I’ve thought of you all these last couple of days, wondering how Oklahoma is doing, how you are doing. I cannot fathom.

The day the storm came with reck-less fury, my toddler baby girl darted out the front door wearing rubber pink princess boots that are just a little too big for her tiny feet. Discovering daddy was home, she couldn’t wait to run to him. She tumbled down the tiled porch steps and her little face planted on the unforgiving concrete walkway.

I scooped her into my arms and though frightened and sobbing, she was fine. I was afraid at what I’d find, but not even a scratch. Still embracing and calming her I sunk into the couch, and my heart sunk into my chest as I thought of the mamas in Oklahoma holding their terrified children, literally, for dear-life, and some held them for the last time.

I think now, as I tap out these words, of the real-life story of a mama-hero. Tonya is her name, and she rescued her babies by taking shelter in a closet with her children 8 and 6, put bicycle helmets on their heads and prayed. The story was told, “Neighbors dug them out. The roof and upper story of the house had collapsed into and around the closet. Williams and her children suffered only minor injuries. A large wooden cross that had been hanging on an upstairs wall was found on top of them.”

The mama went on to say, “If you weren’t a religious person before, you are now,” Williams said. “No word can describe it but a miracle.” 

I thank God for this.

And then I wonder how I let it get lost every day in the every day cares of my little world — what is most important. I get weary over fingerprints on the fridge, crumbs under my feet and thick layers of dust under the bed, while trying to be a keeper of the home. And spinning clouds came howling black, causing havoc, dismantling your lives in a matter of minutes, and then leaving you to pick up the fragmented pieces of heart and home.

You, the mama who knows a bone-tired, broken-hearted weary that I know not. I cannot help but think of how I still go about my days and take them for granted as if I will forever and always have another. And I let the moments speed by, and even rushing them along for the moment alone when the children are all asleep.

I fail at treasuring them. How selfish I still am. I don’t want to wait until it’s all gone to appreciate what I had.

I’m not sure my words will ever make it to any of you Oklahoma weary mamas, but I know my prayers will make it to the Father God who is already with you. So I pray for you. And I weep with you. I hope you know the God of all comfort.

“The Lord is close to those whose hearts have been broken.
He saves those whose spirits have been crushed.
Anyone who does what is right may have many troubles.
But the Lord saves him from all of them.”
Psalm 34:18-19 

And my friend pens perfectly God’s heart for you, “I stand in the middle of the hard places, of the moments where pain swallows all hope…My weary ones, my tired children who run scattered, come. Let me gather you up. Let me wipe away your tears. Let me shoulder this burden. Let me be your strong place, your hope.”

Yes, precious mama-hero, let’s make God our strong place and our hope, always.

with love,

 

I’ve joined the Dear Weary Mom, link-up today. I hope you’ll come for a visit and be encouraged and maybe consider sharing your stories with us, too? Click here to visit the Hope for the Weary Mom blog, and read other Dear Weary Mom letters to you…