Around this time of year, I see blog or Facebook posts from moms processing their children’s graduation from high school or college and the realization that they are about to leave the nest for good.
That time is such an emotional roller coaster–happy and excited for them, yet lamenting over the changes to come. Wondering what life is going to be like without the daily presence of one we nurtured and loved for 18+ years. Hoping we adequately taught them what they needed to know. Missing them before they even leave. Being concerned for the life changes and multiple decisions they’ll face as they step into adulthood. Praying, praying, praying.
When my children were little, I had a habit of going to their rooms and checking to see that they were breathing before I went to bed. That practice morphed a bit as they grew up. In their teen years, it looked like not being able to go to bed until I knew they were safely home.
I don’t delve into poetry often–I have trouble getting the meter just right. But several years ago, I wrote this poem based on that experience. I’ve shared it before, but it seemed timely to share it again. I hope it’s a blessing to you.
A Mother’s Nightly Ritual
Before a mother goes to bed
She checks each little downy head,
Places a hand on back or chest
Of each sleeping child at rest,
Making sure that all is well
Before succumbing to sleep’s spell.As children grow and youth abounds,
Yet Mother still must make her rounds.
She can not rest at ease until
Her little ones are calm and still,
Safely tucked into their beds.
Then softly to her own she treads.From childhood into youth they grow,
And she waits up until she knows
They’re settled safe and sound at home
Til the next day when they roam.
Though now they stay up long past her,
She can’t rest til they’re home, secure.Her birds fly later from her sight.
Their beds are empty now at night.
She cannot check the rise and fall
Of sleeping breaths within her walls.
Yet she trusts they’re safely kept
By Him who never once has slept.Though now they sleep beyond her care,
They never move beyond her prayer.
Her nightly vigil now is to
Trust them to the same One Who
Watched o’er Jacob while he roamed,
And kept him safe though far from home.Barbara Harper
Copyright 2010
(I often link up with some of these bloggers.)
Stray Thoughts 
Beautiful poem. Thanks for sharing
I think you’ve captured every mother here! So beautiful! Thank you.
This is so lovely Barbara; I found myself getting teary-eyed as I read through it, knowing how each verse would progress. Being a mom is so wonderful and bittersweet both at the same time!
I got teary-eyed myself rereading it. It’s so true that motherhood is a mix of contrasting emotions.
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I never knew you wrote poetry. This one is beautiful. And yes, I too, went in and check every night. I often stood by their beds and quietly prayed to myself. I still pray for them at night although they are grown, married and with children of their own. So all that has changed is that my prayers are longer now 🙂 This >>> “Yet she trusts they’re safely kept By Him who never once has slept.” Amen.
I don’t try poetry often–I think, as an adult, I’ve only written a handful of poems, and a couple of those were song parodies. 🙂
It’s such a comfort that, though my children are out of my sight and my direct care, they are never out of His.
So beautiful, Barbara! It was 39 years until I had my empty nest, what with the oldest being 14 years older than the youngest and then living at home while they went to college. Your poem expresses exactly the condition of a mother’s heart in the nightly ritual!
This is such a beautiful capture of a mother’s heart for her children. Lovely!
Aw, I love that poem!
Beautiful poem that really captures the heart and experience of mothering through the years! So very thankful that I can entrust my children and grandchildren to God’s care and know that he is faithfully watching over them.
Wow, every word is true! I especially love the reference to God as the “one who has never slept.”
That’s so sweet, Barbara. That last stanza, I can just hear my own mother thinking the same thoughts.
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