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What can YOU say in six sentences?
Mothers
A blank page calls me to paint something on it with words, but I feel more like I am finger painting with chocolate pudding.
“Look Mom!” she says, (she is four years old and her artwork is a masterpiece to her - especially given the fact that it is somewhat edible, and this is an extremely attractive combination to a child) “I can erase it with my tongue!” she giggles with wide chocolate covered lips.
“Oh don’t do that sweetie…let it dry and I will put it on the fridge…it is wonderful,” she says holding a warm cloth – prepared for action - it is the amazing act of a mother to save a child from licking pudding off of dirty paper while at the same time elevating esteem.
Mothers must be tricky at times.
I don’t have to be a Picasso for her to be proud of me, I could be a finger painting made with pudding, and I feel like that at times; yet she would put me on my grandmother’s fridge, and be proud of everything that their womanhood has created.
When I think of heaven, I think of a place God has papered with our worst art; when I think of God I think of my mother…love's total lack of pretension, and the beautiful exaltation of imperfection.
“Look Mom!” she says, (she is four years old and her artwork is a masterpiece to her - especially given the fact that it is somewhat edible, and this is an extremely attractive combination to a child) “I can erase it with my tongue!” she giggles with wide chocolate covered lips.
“Oh don’t do that sweetie…let it dry and I will put it on the fridge…it is wonderful,” she says holding a warm cloth – prepared for action - it is the amazing act of a mother to save a child from licking pudding off of dirty paper while at the same time elevating esteem.
Mothers must be tricky at times.
I don’t have to be a Picasso for her to be proud of me, I could be a finger painting made with pudding, and I feel like that at times; yet she would put me on my grandmother’s fridge, and be proud of everything that their womanhood has created.
When I think of heaven, I think of a place God has papered with our worst art; when I think of God I think of my mother…love's total lack of pretension, and the beautiful exaltation of imperfection.
Comment
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Comment by Rosie on May 6, 2009 at 9:18pm -
oh, that last sentence....thankyouthankyou. I love writing about mothers and daughters, and this was so tender, just superb.
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Comment by Laurita on April 27, 2009 at 6:40am -
This was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
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Comment by Scarlet Woundsmile on April 26, 2009 at 10:22pm -
aw, thanks so much for everyone's kind feedback. i hope to be the kind of mother to my daughter, that my mother was to me.
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Comment by Trevor Mcpherson on April 26, 2009 at 6:39pm -
Heaven as a fridge covered with finger painting....I approve.
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Comment by Erin Cole on April 26, 2009 at 12:59pm -
Beauty is imperfection - lovely Scarlet! And.. you've given me some great ideas, being a mom of young children myself! Finger painting with chocolate pudding, hmm.
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Comment by LillyGirl on April 26, 2009 at 6:27am -
that was an amazing last thought - one i hope to remember.
thanks.
:)
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Comment by JMac on April 26, 2009 at 12:08am -
Wow, some beautiful thoughts here and so well written. Kinda makes me want to finger paint. :)
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Comment by Michael Solender on April 25, 2009 at 8:21pm -
delicious
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Comment by Scarlett Rose on April 25, 2009 at 5:28pm -
I love the last line too, it really is incredibly beautiful :)
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Comment by Tess Dickenson on April 25, 2009 at 3:51pm -
Beautiful... that last line is pure poetry ... heart music.
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