Truly, every day is a holy one, sprinkled with moments to be cherished. I’m not saying I don’t lose my temper or get tired of cleaning up messes and picking up toys, but there is a sacredness in the ordinary that can help you find inner peace. As Anni Daulter says, motherhood is your spiritual practice every day.
As my daughter grows older, I become more and more aware of just how precious these years are. I find myself pausing more often to say yes, thank you, I am blessed, motherhood is beautiful. I don’t want these moments to slip through my hands like grains of sand, I want to treasure each of them.
Bathing as a spiritual act.
We were formed, lived and grown in a womb of water. Water is our original home. It cleanses, blesses, and renews us. Lovingly washing each little body part with gentle baby soap is truly a ceremonial practice if you think about it. The next time you bathe your baby use a lavender body wash and make it a meditation in motion, blessing each body part as you go.
And oh their hair!
There is just something indescribably comforting about the warm sweet smell of the crown of your child’s head. It might sound like a strange thing, but every mother, including the ultimate “smother mother” Beverly Goldberg, whom I completely adore, knows exactly what I’m talking about. Inhaling the subtle nuances of that sweet violet like fragrance is nothing short of perfect peace. It’s better than incense at mass.
Bedtime can be a hard one for me. My daughter is a night owl and getting her to sleep is a process. I struggle with wanting her to fall asleep so I can have some alone time. When she asks me for “one more story” I try to remember one of my favorite scenes in the movie E.T. and it reminds me, this is a holy moment.
It’s the part when E.T. is hiding in the closet watching Mary, reading a bedtime story to Gertie. That scene is the perfect example of sacred in the ordinary. Why not gather a basket of books by your child’s bed and create a new bedtime ritual? Pick a gold basket or tie a gold bow on it to help you remember the intent of this practice.
And the pitter patters?
I never realized that little feet really do pitter patter until I had a child. Nothing warms my soul more on a sunny Saturday morning than when I hear the pitter patter of little footsteps coming over to climb in my bed. (I especially loved it when my daughter still wore footie pajamas.)
Not every day is rainbows and sunshine. I lose my temper, we have meltdowns over how much time on the Ipad is appropriate, or whether she ate enough dinner. I fail and stumble on a daily basis. We all do. Yet we are redeemed every morning with a new day.
On the way to the bus stop, when she comments on the beautiful sky, or the dew, or stops to find a four leaf clover, instead of rushing her I try to appreciate how she effortlessly lives in the present moment.
As my daughter’s hands grow and change from chubby little toddler hands to hands with thin, long fingers I’m reminded of just how old she is getting. Each time she stretches for my hand I say a silent prayer of gratitude that she still reaches for me.
Holding my hand, she trusts me to lead her, willingly going wherever I take her. Someday our children may not want to hold our hand, but we can always be there. Whether it’s when they are sick, or their heart gets broken, or they lose their best friend we can be there to hold their hand.
Giving birth my daughter has left an indelible mark on my soul. She is of me and I am of her. Our hands and our souls will be forever intertwined and I rest in the sacred sweet peace of knowing this. Everyday is a chance for us to pause, exercise our parenting muscles and know that all the mothering we do, the good and the bad, is a meditation in motion, a true spiritual practice.
Looking for more ritual ideas? You might like Peaceful Pauses, my self care deck of cards for mamas.
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