When I was young, my mom had a book that was full of nurse log photographs--trees that had fallen and given themselves over to new life. The book was full of giant, elegant edifices, broken down and laid to rest, with ferns and moss and new roots, bursting forth from their decay. My mom was deeply moved by the book and the maternal analogy resting in its images. But, as a teenager, I was horrified. Was she telling me that my growth required her death? Was she giving up on her own life and dreams for me? It was that book, in part, that made me never want kids. Why would I want to sacrifice myself just to let someone grow off me. I didn't want to become someone else's fuel at the expense of my own.
Now here I am. Four children later. A willing nurse log. In fact, nothing in the world matters more to me than transferring my life to them. Not because I am in decay but because I can. Because I have at least some of what they need to grow.
There have been seasons (especially in the early years) where I felt more like an unkempt compost pile than a life force blanketing the forest floor. But, I can see the analogy now and the beauty my mother saw in it. She wasn't seeing her decay, she was bearing witness to her own strength.
I am so grateful to my beautiful mom, and all the incredible women in my life that have poured their nutrients into my heart and allowed me grow.
Happy Mothers Day to all the nurse logs of world. Not because you gave birth...because you give life!
If you are looking for a unique and thoughtful way to celebrate your wife, mother, grandmother or selected maternal figure this Mothers Day, make your reservation for this Sunday at the Heart Gallery. We will make her feel life the life force she is--And, her first drink's on us!