QUIET THOUGHTS

A quiet morning. I am sitting at the counter in the most nurturing room in the house thinking about my little french mama.

I see Jacqueline standing at the stove, wondering even know how she made her petite, 5’ 2” frame look so long and lovely. The tie from her half apron peeks out from the folds of a silk blouse and she stirs something that I know will taste as delicious as it smells.

Don’t get me wrong. Jacqueline’s cooking was never complex. In fact, when I think about the meals we all shared, it’s never about the cooking, but about the being there, all four of us, seated around the table.

Life seems so much more complicated now, mostly because we make it that way.

My feed is inundated with professional images of lavish dishes. I imagine it takes as much or more time photographing the dish than it does preparing it. And that makes me secretly stressed. We make things so difficult, don't we?! And we try so very hard to impress. Such a shame when all we really need to do is pour out our love.

I think sometimes we all just need a mommy. A soft landing when life gets so big we feel like plopping ourselves down in the middle of Isle 4 and throwing that long-overdue tantrum. Sometimes things are hard. They just are. And sometimes those around us overreact because that “hard” spills out of us in ways that are unexpected, even to us.

And then I remember, when life got too big for this little girl, when all the ugly came seeping out, my mama didn't turn away and leave me alone to deal with it—

She bent down.
And she held me.
Until the snuffing stopped.
Until the breathing calmed.
Until the heart stilled—
In that space I anchored in and found myself again.
I am thinking, in this quiet morning, let's be that kind of sustenance for one another.