There was a bad storm tonight. We knew it was coming and DC was a bit nervous at bedtime. I tucked them in, kissed them goodnight, spoke a blessing over them as I always do, and walked to the door. That's when I heard, "Mom, can you sit here in a chair and hold my hand?"
Melt my mama heart.
Of course I can!

So I sat there and held their hand. So sweet. So grown up. So still my baby.

A few minutes later, the power went out. I was on the potty which is a very uncomfortable place to be when the lights go out. Luckily, I happen to like baths with candles, because there were some tealight candles on the cabinet ledge of the tub, so I lit the candle and walked to DC's room.
I felt like Maria von Trapp leading DC down the hall to my room. Remember the scene with the thunderstorm?

DC really brought their pillow and comforter and nestled into a nest of blankets. I pet DC's hair and whispered words I have said since their birth: "sweet angel. mama's darlin. mama loves you sooo much." As I sensed DC slipping toward sleep, I wrapped my palm around their elbow and just comforted with my warm hand and my silence. My mama love needed no more words.

I'm so deeply grateful for this moment. DC is so growin' up, so smart, so capable, and so still my baby.

The Bible is filled with stories of single mothers. There's one in particular that I want to highlight. from 2nd Kings 4:1-7
This single mother was a widow and was experiencing desperate financial need that put her children in danger. Like many single mothers in her situation, she went to a godly safe person and asked for help. The safe person she asked for help took the time to ask her about her situation and see how he could help. Once he found out what her resources were, he shared a plan on how God could multiply her resources and you guessed it he used other safe people to do it. Here's how the miracle went down:
The widow (how I wish we knew her name!) and her sons went throughout her community asking to borrow jars and bowls. They borrowed all they could. Then the mama and her boys went home, closed the door for privacy, and started pouring. See, all they had was a little bottle of oil, probably olive oil, and they took their little bottle and started pouring. Used in faith, that little bottle kept on pouring, kept on pouring, kept on pouring until it filled up all the other empty jars. This single mama sold all the oil and used the proceeds to pay off her debt, keep her sons out of danger and had plenty left over to live on. Good outcome!

What moves me about this story is the perfect blend of vertical and horizontal. In a vertical way, it was all about the single mother and God. Only God could make a small oil jar keep pouring like that. But the horizontal was equally important, the single mama and her community. Her safe friends who helped her. Without the jars from her safe friends, what would she have had to receive all that God was doing in her life?

There are many people in need in our world today. I'd like to ask you to pay close attention to the single mothers in your world. Be a safe person. Take the time to ask and listen and get to know what the needs are in their life. And be willing to be part of the miracle in their life. What is God doing in their life? How can you help them to receive that? collect it? capture it? contain it?
Be the empty arms that God can fill when you hug her. When God pours out good and blessing in her life, help her to receive it. Don't deny yourself the joy of being one of the jars of miracles in the life of a single mother.

Here's the whole story, from The Message:
4:1 One day the wife of a man from the guild of prophets called out to Elisha, "Your servant my husband is dead. You well know what a good man he was, devoted to God. And now the man to whom he was in debt is on his way to collect by taking my two children as slaves."

4:2 Elisha said, "I wonder how I can be of help. Tell me, what do you have in your house?" "Nothing," she said. "Well, I do have a little oil."

4:3 "Here's what you do," said Elisha. "Go up and down the street and borrow jugs and bowls from all your neighbors. And not just a few - all you can get.

4:4 Then come home and lock the door behind you, you and your sons. Pour oil into each container; when each is full, set it aside."

4:5 She did what he said. She locked the door behind her and her sons; as they brought the containers to her, she filled them.

4:6 When all the jugs and bowls were full, she said to one of her sons, "Another jug, please." He said, "That's it. There are no more jugs." Then the oil stopped.

4:7 She went and told the story to the man of God. He said, "Go sell the oil and make good on your debts. Live, both you and your sons, on what's left."
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Here's the Synch in Synchroblog: all the other dear ones who also blogged on this topic today
Julie Clawson on the God who sees
Steve Hayes on St. Theodora the Iconodule
Sonja Andrews on Aunt Jemima
Sensuous Wife on a single mom in the Bible
Minnowspeaks on celebrating women
Michelle Van Loon on the persistant widow
Lyn Hallewell on women who walked with God
Heather on the strength of biblical women
Shawna Atteberry on the Daughter of Mary Magdalene
Christine Sine on women who impacted her life
Susan Barnes on Tamar, Ruth, and Mary
Kathy Escobar on standing up for nameless and voiceless women
Ellen Haroutunian on out from under the veil
Liz Dyer on Mary and Martha
Bethany Stedman on Shiphrah and Puah
Dan Brennan on Mary Magdalene
Jessica Schafer on Bathsheba
Eugene Cho on Lydia
Laura sorts through what she knows about women in the Bible
Miz Melly preached on the woman at the well
AJ Schwanz on women’s work
Pam Hogeweide on teenage girls changing the world
Teresa on the women Paul didn’t hate
Helen on Esther
Happy on Abigail
Mark Baker-Wright on telling stories
Robin M. on Eve
Alan Knox is thankful for the women who served God
Lainie Petersen on the unnamed concubine
Mike Clawson on cultural norms in the early church
Krista on serving God
Bob Carlton on Barbie as Icon
Jan Edmiston preached on the unnamed concubine
Deb on her namesake - Deborah
Makeesha on empowering women
Kate on Esther
Doreen Mannion on Deborah
Patrick Oden on Rahab
Scot McKnight on Junia
Jonathan Stegall on Eve
InHo Kim on Sarah
Mimi Haddad on deception

When our first child was born, he spent the first few days of his life in the neonatal intensive care unit at the hospital. Delighted Husband and I were there with him nearly all the time. This was before my awakening so sexy wasn't usually on my radar. I had not yet cultivated my worldview that I was a sexy woman. But I had this moment. And I want to share it with you.

Beloved Child was a bit premature, and fussy, so the pediatrician suggested I open my blouse and give my baby skin-to-skin contact. They had these beautiful pale yellow privacy shades they placed around my rocking chair. Feeling a little awkward but hungry to hold my baby and let him know mama was there, I unbuttoned my maternity blouse, unwrapped my little darling (he looked like a little burrito in that white hospital blanket!) and laid my sweet baby against my abdomen and covered us both with a blanket. He was jaundiced, so he looked so foreign next to my skin. But in his face he looked just like me and in my heart he felt like mine! mine! mine! It was a peaceful, quiet moment amidst all the beeping chaos of the NICU.

Then I looked at his father.

Delighted Husband was looking at me and Beloved Baby like we were all that was precious in the world. And then I caught it..that quick tiny sparkle in his eye. Just like that, I was lost in the tractor beam of Delighted Husband's gaze. Without words, we remembered what we did to create this child. A blush crept over my cheeks and I looked at Delighted Husband with this self-aware heat in my eyes. My eyes said, "We made love. It was fabulous. You made me pregnant, and now I have this amazing little person nestled up against my skin. Oh my God."

In that moment, Delighted Husband snapped a picture.

And in an instant, the moment was over. The nurse walked up to draw blood from Beloved Child and crying and chaos pushed in and drowned out the moment.

Weeks later, I went to the store where I had gone for the film to be developed. When I got to that SexyMamaMoment photo, I was elated. Standing there in the pharmacy all disheveled and sleep deprived, I looked at that photo and thought, "oh my God, is that really me?" and it was. I didn't feel sexy there in the store. At all. At all. At all. But in my trembling hands I held photographic proof that my moment had really happened.

I put it in the photo album, along with all the other photos of Beloved Child's first six weeks. When friends from church asked to see baby pictures, I didn't think twice about handing over the photo album while I went to go boil some water for tea. I don't remember what he said, but I remember one of our church friends coughing and looking at me in an embarrassed putdown way and swiftly handing off the baby album like it was contaminated. I was flooded with embarrassment. I didn't have much confidence then. And I was Southern and here was a guest in my home offended by something I had given him. I was seriously infected with the disease to please. When our friends went home that night, I took out the picture of my first SexyMamaMoment, and I tore it up. To this day, there is a blank spot in that baby photo album. And oh I would fill it if I could. I have searched for the negative and I cannot find it. I have tears in my eyes just remembering what has been lost. How I would love to see that picture today!

There's a lesson here, my darlings. Don't let anyone look down on you for owning and recognizing that you are a sexual being. Don't let others erase your beautiful defining moment or put down your identity as a beautiful sexual creature created by God. Hold on to the good in your life. Hold on tight! Stretch marks and mortgages and fatigue and soccer leagues and teacher meetings and client meetings and HOA meetings will try to push in and take those moments from you by encroaching on the time those moments can occur. But hold on tight!

Looking back, I realize that man was an illmannered prude and I was a naive woman who gave away her validation card quite too easily. Not any more.

Like most of my aha! heartfelt moments, this was inspired by another blogger who generously shared their heart in a post. So thank you Mama of Romance for your beautiful post Feeling Beautiful: It's Up to You.
She says, "Because I feel like I am beautiful, it shines through.
It's so much easier to enjoy sex, to be passionate, and to love making love when you feel beautiful.
Being a woman is an incredibly powerful thing.
The curves, the soft skin, the feminine features.
Giving birth, having a baby, motherhood - it's all a beautiful thing.
Mother's are beautiful."

Amen, sista!

I would add: when you do have a moment when you feel beautiful, don't let anybody talk you out of it. Nobody but you and God have the right to decide whether or not you're beautiful. And God has already voted Yes.

Love,
SW

One night this summer, Delighted Husband and I were tired and achy after taking the kids on a 4 mile hike. We very much wanted to be together but we had to laugh at ourselves laying still and holding hands and groaning with pain. "What a hot couple we are" as we laughed at ourselves. We were still naked and smiling at each other so that was a start. Delighted Husband has access to all these cool overseas radio stations on his phone, so he was scrolling through some stations and he found a really great classical station broadcasting from London. The classical music was beautiful and rich and still and didn't require us to move. (you know what I mean by that. some music just makes you want to dance. you just try to be still while listening to Ladysmith Black Mambazo!)

We were cuddling and talking about the children. We had planned to have a shagfest much earlier in the evening, but something the DC said set off a little beep beep beep in my heart letting me know they needed some quality time and connection with their dad and me. I knew instinctively that the best way to get them to connect verbally was to get them away from any and all electronic conveniences so I drove us all to one of our favorite nature trails. There's nothing like a long trail with nothing but the sound of wind whispering in the trees to get a kid to talking. Sweating helps too. Something about physical labor gets you talking honest and from the heart, and we were hiking at a steady clip!

I hung back for a while, watching my husband interact with the children. God, I love that man. I wasn't eavesdropping exactly, but I think for a while they forgot I was there.

It was this memory that came to mind as I cuddled with Delighted Husband listening to Rachmaninoff that night. I told him, as I have told him a thousand times, that seeing him share from his heart with the children, offering him manly heart in a fatherly way I could never imitate just sets off a little joy alarm deep inside my body. Every cell in my body says, "Girl! This is the one! Get this man to get you pregnant asap!" I told him and we laughed gently. My body can no longer get pregnant. But apparently places in my heart and my loins never got the memo, cause they keep on tryin!

I rolled over on top of him and he grinned hello. And after just a few seconds of fondling, I was aroused and ready to move. The soft candlelight on the dresser cast a lovely shadow of my hips as I moved over him gently. As passion is known to do, momentum picked up. Orgasmic steam built up and blew. And I rolled over collapsing in an exhausted tangle of limbs. Good man that he is, he moved enough for the both of us for his turn and came home to me quickly. We both submerged into sleep and next thing we knew the alarm clock was ringing.

Apparently one of the quickest ways to a woman's heart is her children. And definitely the quickest way to my loins is my heart!
He knows all the shortcuts, my Delighted Husband.

I'll tell you the same thing I've told all my girlfriends to whom I recommend scheduled sex and they wrinkle their nose and say "ohh but wouldn't that take all the fun out of it?"

Girls, I have walked into an evening of scheduled sex at many stages of arousal, desire, or lack thereof.
And I've never regretted it.
Ever.

I could tell you that making love regularly creates hormonal bonds with your husband, boosts self-esteem, and promotes an overall sense of well-being, ease, and satisfaction. But perhaps you'll understand it better if I tell you a little story.

It's 8:30pm and I have just been loved truly, madly, deeply and past the edge of reason. And now Boy Scouts are over and it's time to go pick up Dear Child. I groan, and stretch and peel myself out of bed. I'm looking for a little consolation prize so I decide to try on that cute little sundress that was too small the last time I tried it. It fits. Yeah, baby! This is just the boost I need. I glide out of the house pausing briefly to slip on some sandals.

I pull up to the door of the church and the scoutmaster who happens to be the pastor walks out with a smile and props his elbow on my drivers side mirror in a conversational pose.
"Wellll hellloooo!"
I give a quick little smile and beckon Dear Child into the SUV. Friendly Pastor will not be dissuaded.
"So how was date night?"
"Great!" I cannot suppress a smile.
"So where'd you go for dinner?"
I stammer, "Um, we, er, We had a picnic" I hope this is at least partially true. I think we ate something before we got busy. I could not tell you what we ate if my life depended on it.
"Ohhh a picnic! Great idea! Where'd you go?"
I feel the heat suffuse my face and know a blush is blooming over my cheeks. "Uhh, we had our picnic at home."
There is a brief tiny flash of recognition and Friendly Pastor draws back like he's been stung. He backpedals admirably with "Well thanks for letting Dear Child participate in our program! We sure had a fun time tonight!"
I smile a proper motherly smile and thank him right back. What I want to say but don't...
No problem, Rev. We wouldn't let him quit if he wanted to! We need the free babysitting!

Dear Son is hungry, so I drive him to Subway and I walk over to Starbucks to get a decaf sugarfree cinnamon dolce.
My walk becomes a saunter as I think of all the things I just did with Delighted Husband. To the casual observer, I am a thirtysomething housewife. A curvaceous soccer mom who shops at Lane Bryant. But I know I am a sex goddess. And Delighted Husband knows it too. I smile. Just feeling good in every joint of my body. I feel lithe and relaxed and absolutely gorgeous. Gorgeous is as gorgeous does. And gorgeous does. She certainly does.

(smile of mama delight and fond remembrance) That's what Dear Son used to say when he was a toddler and he saw something he wanted. It wasn't a demand. (you must get that for me now) It wasn't a request. (mommy will you please get that for me) It was just an unedited spontaneous organic expression of desire. (oooh!)
I have a lot to learn from that kid.

And sometimes baby talk is the best shortcut past all the doubletalk and backpedaling we grownups do in our heads.

So. When I saw this poster telling me that Sarah Groves AND Derek Webb AND Charlie Peacock will be pouring out their hearts in song ALL IN THE SAME ROOM??

What else can I say at the mere prospect of getting the poetwoman who sneaks into my secret thoughts like the tooth fairy and then writes perfect gems, the secret ingredient that makes Caedmon's Call sound so good, and the beloved ally who validated my experience as an artist and as a woman and invited me to reach out for more in both arenas and was good enough to show me how and all within the covers of a book called New Way to be Human and with his kind words and listening eyes when Delighted Husband and I met him at a show. My God. What else can I say, but "Wanty, wanty!"

I have no idea how Himself will meet this desire of mine. But I'm going on the record. You heard it here.