I revel in those stories in the Bible that have lead people into the future.
“My soul glorifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour.”
Mary’s song when she encountered God’s future promise to her. So her soul took on the promise.
No one knows where the soul resides, but I do know it’s what Jesus came to save, and that’s enough for me to realise that it’s to be cherished and protected.
That first day of birth, God breathed in his Spirit, allowed my heart and mind to beat along with his, joined forever to his Father heart. But that wasn’t enough, He in his wisdom, created mankind with souls, senses, tools of living that would sustain us, me, through each day.
Without my soul, I would be an empty shell, a no-one, a robot of circumstances blown through life with no purpose or ability to be an individual. My soul needs the life that is given by the Spirit of God. It’s my life-source, feeding my mind and soul so that, in turn, I can motivate my body to act, do, and exist.
Body, soul and Spirit. Three in one. The scriptures don’t definitively state that this is so, but the Bible’s truth is just that. God created, Jesus came to save by his death, and the Spirit was poured out afterwards to remain with us forever. The joining of the three for salvation.
Now heading towards Mother’s Day this weekend, I cherish the amazing privilege of having given birth. Having watched a soul come to life.
Being a Mum means more than giving birth to a child. It’s loving and knowing a soul before you even see it. It’s carrying and caring for a life completely dependent on you for survival.
It’s giving air to the lungs that grew within you, and sight to the eyes that will never see you as anything but Mummy, Mum, Ma, Hevsie.
It’s sleepless nights, and nursing scratches and scrapes; being stern and protective. It’s teaching them to talk, to walk, and, eventually, to run.
It’s learning to hand your child to a stranger to let them teach what, at times, you cannot. It’s bracing them for a fall and dusting them off after they do. It’s seeing them cry and not knowing how to fix it, so you sit on the floor and hold them and cry right along beside them.
It’s teaching them that they are smart, capable, funny and giving them the security to do great things.
It’s building their self-esteem, supporting their dreams and loving them unconditionally.
It’s letting them go, letting them fail and teaching them how to get back up. Going without so that they don’t have to, and being OK with that.
Being a mother is a gift difficult to imagine for any woman without a child in their life – a connection unmatched and insurmountable in any form or other relationship.
It’s a love that grows continually, a love that always wants more and better. It’s being terrified that you can’t prevent pain, injustice, heartbreak and at times even death.
It’s laughing at jokes that aren’t even funny but were made hilarious by the delivery.
It’s listening to stories that go on and on without a point. It’s always being available for the “Mum, watch me!” yells and “Mum, I need you” pleas.
It’s drowning out the word MUM repeated over and over in attempts to get your attention.
It’s songs sung out of tune and settling squabbles with siblings.
It’s being mean, and teaching hard lessons, that hurt you inside so deep you want to cry, but you must stand strong with resolve.
It’s being strong for them when you are weak. Smiling when you want to cry, and crying when you’re smiling with pride.
It’s looking through photographs and feeling your heart swell with love and happiness when you see the beauty, the happiness and life in your child’s smile and eyes, and seeing them grow through those pictures into authentic human beings, who enrich the world.
It’s watching them parent their own children, mimicking and laying down boundaries and moral beliefs that you lead them through as they grow, and which in their teenage years they adamantly announce, ‘they would never do that to their children’!
Being a Mother brings confusion, mistakes, uncharted territory and blindfolded guessing. It’s snuggling on the couch watching a movie, braiding hair till your fingers hurt, or being woken up early on Saturday morning because they want to crawl in bed and be close to your heart.
It’s snuggling on the couch watching a movie, braiding hair till your fingers hurt, or being woken up early on Saturday morning because they want to crawl in bed and be close to your heart.
It’s having the worst day and having them hug you and tell you “I love you”, and needing nothing more.
It’s keeping those family traditions alive. Like watching ‘Carols by Candlelight’ every Christmas Eve, buying Topdeck chocolate instead of Easter eggs, laying up for breakfast the night before, and lying awake until you hear the car drive in the driveway and the front door being quietly closed in the small hours of the morning.
Being a mother is a blessing, a gift, a relationship that never ends and a love that never dies. It’s the best thing I have ever become, the greatest love I have ever felt and the best part about being me. My soul never ends developing or yearning for more.
My body, soul and spirit find its way back to the ancient hymn:
“Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!”