How does a baby know
Just what it takes to grow
From a tiny seed of love
Into a new embodiment of God?

Hubris, it seems, to think
That God, herself, might be held
In such a tiny hand.
Except that the gift of God, herself,
Is surely that – the offer of deep embodiment.

How does a mother know
Just what it takes to love this new life
Into deeper being;
Two weave a love between them
Strong enough to grow them both?

Love, itself, seems to draw the answer forth
Not in words or rules or dictates
But in quiet and joyful responsiveness
To the interplay of coos and cries
And mutual nourishing.

How is it that an old woman knows
Just what it takes to grow into a warm and welcome maturity?
How to let go of previous strengths and struggles
In order to find new channels of life within?

How does she learn the rhythms
Of a loving universe
Even in a season of growing frailty or loss?
How is God, herself, reflected even there?

It is the mystery of universal love,
That leads the way –
The love of all the universe,
The heart, the hope, the truth,
Of all that is.

For God, herself, is mother to us all,
Even as She is born anew in each of us,
In all of us, together,
In all the infinite span of life in Life.

[image modified from photo by Irina Patrascu Gheorghita per cc 2.0]
I was reminded that last Sunday was Mother’s Day in the UK.