I will not make my children be second-hand owners of their spiritual lives
Itching and squirming in it-fitting hand-me-down values,
Tripping over hems left long to conceal all things and restrict the feet from wandering,
Suffocating under high collars drawn up to keep the throat and it’s expressions muffled in subservience masquerading as respect.
Talk back, my darlings.
With full expression and loud noise!
Let my ears be witness to all of your anger and all of your joy.
For your own safety, ask your questions and point fingers at the inconsistencies-those half-built pillars that would leave you beneath the rubble before you even know what has happened.
Share the discovery of your truths with me and I will sing them back to you in a lullaby of radical love and acceptance.
Sing freely the throaty birdsong of a fledgling soul that knows its own sovereignty and trusts the safety of a nest that is not a prison, but a home.
Wander, my dears.
When your longings call to you, run to them with unencumbered feet
That is where you will meet the holy mystery on the secret paths know only to you.
And when you have found your secret place shed every covering you have ever known and dance,
clothed fully in the presence of the divine.
Phoebe is a single stay at home mom in Northwest Florida where she is homeschooling four beautiful children and two American pit bull terriers. While she dreams of being a “real writer” someday, for now she is fully immersed in the sacred work of motherhood and occasionally uses her love of words to share that with others.