With my firstborn I would of freaked out or felt tremendous guilt & vowed to never say it again, these words first patched together by my own mom and now come tumbling from my lips as I slice my finger in the kitchen, can't find a pencil for the millionth time or am just feeling lost in this world and the walls are closing in on me. Please tell me you have some of those moments.
But tonight, I chuckled and owned it. Her. And all the ways she soaks me up that blue eyed Walters girl who lives at a decible above us all. She is a mirror of me. It only took birthing 5 children to get one that looks just. like. me. All but the blue eyes. Those are from her Mama Jo. At first I grinned and said thank you and ahhh, isn't that sweet as people commented on her resembling me. Slowly tho, I have awakened unto the glory of this sacred thing called mothering and imprinting souls, having little shadows that look to me...are watching, modeling.
And just today as I gave her and her sister beaded little purses fit for evening gowns my mom just passed on to me for them, this pistol pot of a girly girl said, "Bye kids, I'm going on a date, be good for Miss Johannah." Her purse swinging down by her feet. I grinned and played along talking into the story. Then I whispered, "I think I remember Nana putting this long chain in the purse and then tucking it under her armpit like this." Smiling large and loud the way my own Mom does espically around my Dad I walked out of the house, blew kisses.
She carried that purse under her arm all. day. long. To the dentist as well as the grocery for a few forgotten ingredients for the crazy dinner party of 12 ladies I was hosting tonight and feeling unprepared for yet that I needed like I need water & sleep & air. A penny, dime, lipgloss and an old camera tucked inside her purse. Though she is playing at being grown up today, I know all too soon she will be.
I called my Dad this past Sunday at the kitchen sink over a broken garbage disposal with tons of dirty dishes to wash and a trundle bed of the boys that broke that morning. Tears weren't far behind my eyes as I asked if there was any way he could pop up the mountain to help with some projects. Servant that he is, he was being the passenger while my 15 year old nephew got some driving time in. "Isn't being all grown up fun!?!" My Dad chuckled and I could see his grin and feel his love so tight around me the tears squirted out. "You wanted to be all grown up so bad." 
And I did. And now she does, this precious little girl child who has me all on my left foot in my parenting grooves. Keeps me humbled, this fourth Walters blessing. And when she does grow up, you know what? I think she will be like me in ways that will both humble and heal her.
Tonight I hosted a dinner party of women who mostly didn't know each other. Women whose eyeballs I get to look into now and then, some more than others and who have been a part of Abbas wooing me to sink my teeth into things that are tangible tho they don't know it. A creshendo of sorts of the 4 month journey I've been on of being mostly unplugged, off facebook. Women that I admire deeply, who lead my kids godly play sunday school class telling the stories of old, breaking bread and letting the little ones pray for their cats & friends & boo-boo's. Women who said yes to my wild idea of a monthly Mom Heart group where we read through a book together, pray for one another once a month. Women who lead magical childhood memory camps, finish Acupuncture school, fight cancer, home educate 5 kids while supporting the family, live simply and happily with 3 kids & a husband in a 2 bedroom house. Women who I see around my little town, but barely "know"and who I'd like to know more. 
Yes, brave souls gathered around my table tonight and I was deeply nourished. I cooked from Bread & Wine 'a love letter to life around the table with recipes' by Shauna Niequist. Bacon-Wrapped Dates, Mango Chicken Curry and Blueberry Crisp my 11 year old son made as I chopped, set out & gathered all the dishes. It was holy work, brave work walking into new waters with food prep. I walk around my life feeling stupid more than I'd like to admit. Seeing more of what I can't do than what I can. The wounds of failure in the classroom as a child follow me everywhere. And even tonight as Sherri offered to stay & wash up the last dishes with me I confessed I wonder if I'll ever be a professional. More feel like and be professional at anything. Just because I have a degree and a Health Coach Certification hasn't made me feel grown up or competent or given me legs to stand in the world and offer something. Like have a real salary. Maybe that comes at 40??? I still have a few years, right?My Mom is a deeply professional woman. She invites respect and a listening ear. She loves deeply, she prays for us, her 3 daughters, our husbands, her 8 grandchildren as she swims an ungodly amount of laps in her Master Swim class. She has survived much in her lifetime. Conquered fears, walked into new territory and figured it out starting with just a VW bus and a bit of pocket money her and my Dad. Living in Canada in a tent. Getting both of them through graduate school. Hosting parties, celebrating us and those we love along the way in a warm, loving home.
She is the one I watched. And she is the one that I find myself immulating in these days of healing from what I do not know, of seeking to find footing in this fastly changing internet, screen relationship world. Invite others in. Give a big hug at the door. Smile. Food. Put on music. Clean the house. Wine, beer and water. Explain the flow of the meal, pray and let go. Talk & guide but not too much.
I fell asleep whispering thank you, father...thank you.
For in him we live and move and have our being. In him we are being made whole. In him, I am gaining confidence to live my one life well. In him I am coming alive again as I ask a friend for help with my clothes in my room that are in piles and eating me up, as I raise my hand and ask. invite. seek a different way. not perfect, just more whole. More real, tangible like figs stuffed with goat cheese and wrapped in bacon and baked to a crisp.
I pray that you too, today will sink your teeth into something real, something yummy. And sit down when you do. And if you feel even more courageous, invite someone to share it with you. Who knows, you may be a part of their healing journey to wholeness as well???
Shalom,
Amanda
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