eight pounds of hopes and dreams

a maternal beatitude

Daughter of the King is a reader-supported publication. Most of my work is free, though I do write in-depth, research-driven devotionals and Bible study lessons as part of my paid subscription plan.

This poem would normally be part of that, but I wanted to offer it to you all as a special Mother’s Day gift.

I am deeply thankful for all my readers, and I pray my work continues to bless you. If you would like to support my work monetarily, I would be honored by your patronage:

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Photo via Pinterest (artist unknown)

eight pounds of hopes and dreams

Blessed be the Mary’s, young mothers treasuring 
up newborn snuggles, fragile fingers, tiny 
toes, and pondering them in their hearts.

Blessed be the Sarah’s, to whom God was faithful, 
who God saw fit to bless with laughter after years 
of sleepless nights and doubtful prayers.

Blessed be the Hagar’s, those surrogate mothers
discarded in the wilderness with a child
in their arms, unsure how they’ll survive.

Blessed be the Leah’s, wedded, bedded, and bred
yet despised, always taking second place to
a double-minded husband’s first love.

Blessed be the Rachel’s, beloved but barren,
eating mandrakes and swallowing tears as they
covet their sisters’ fruitful wombs.

Blessed be the Hannah’s, whispering fervent 
prayers, intoxicated with longing for a child
to fill their barren wombs and empty hearts.

Blessed be the Bathsheba’s, weeping over an
empty cradle, laying eight pounds of hopes and dreams
to rest in a tiny, two-foot casket.

Blessed be the Elizabeth’s, rewarded for 
years of quiet devotion with a squirming, red-faced
miracle long after they lost hope.
 
Blessed be the Anna’s, those spiritual mothers
with no bairns of their own, serving God day and night,
waiting for the child of promise.
 
Blessed be you, child of God, for as a mother 
comforts her babe, so will God nurture you, dear 
one, cradling you in his strong arms.

The Lord could not forget you any more than a 
mother could forget the baby nursing at her
breast—flesh of her flesh, bone of her bone.

He has engraved you on the palm of his hands and
called you by name, lifting you tenderly to his
cheek, holding you close to His heart.

~ a.l.w.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Please feel free to share this poem with others.

P.S. Did you know I wrote an article on the mothers in Jesus’ genealogy? Check it out on Core Christianity’s website.