I felt like I lived in a fish bowl of temper tantrums, potty-talk and sticky fingers declaring my failures. Parenthood is a vulnerable position.

Now, in a quiet house, I see unfolding time without the blur of the craziness of insistence. I look back un-harried and recognize the precious calling of those years.

“Mom, how did you know Dad was the one?” She asked. The question dug into my heart. I knew how important it was to answer well.

We tip-toed backwards and shut the door. When I lifted my eyes, my son stood waiting. Could it be a worried look on his face?

Motherhood’s supreme purpose looks past brief moments and long days. It gains perspective beyond what’s visible and reaches for something invisible.

She cried without stopping. I was a nerve-wracked, shaking failure. Sleep-deprived, I grew up over burp rags and dirty diapers.