Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

When Waves of Mercy Crash Over My “If Onlys”

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Motherhood.

The land of If Onlys.

* * *

If only I’d been calmer when I was pregnant with her.

If only she’d had a higher birth weight.

If only I had breast-fed longer,

If only I had used better childcare,

Or no child-care.

If only I could have home-schooled,

Or read to the girls for longer,

Or helped them with homework,

Or spoken more positive words.

If only their parents had fought less.

If only, if only, if only, I wish….

* * *

And then, I feel them, from nowhere,

Waves of mercy, waves of grace.

They flood over me,

they pulse through me.

They pour, pour, pour.

And I see.

* * *

It’s clay. It’s all clay.

The deep blue clay of the bitter years,

The black clay of one’s failures,

Clay with streaks of silver tears,

Clay red with one’s heart’s blood.

And the best thing I can do

With my if onlys and I wishs

Is place them

In the potter’s magnificent hands

And watch

 

As he kneads,

Shapes, forms, moulds.

 

And I see, amazed,

A glorious vase emerge,

Perfect for its purpose,

In my daughter’s life,

As in my own.

 

Not what we had asked for,

Not what we had dreamed of,

Not what we had expected.

 

Something different is being fashioned

With the azure of failure,

The silver streaks of tears,

The red of one’s heart’s blood,

And the black of sadness.

 

And it is beautiful.

* * *

 

And so, I will no longer look back,

In regret

At foolish, messy yesterdays.

I will entrust yesterday to your magic

hands, O Potter, and tomorrow!

 

I will sit today,

Where waves of love

Crash over me,

 

I will sit

Where waves of mercy pour over my life.

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  1. I came across this following a trail from Lucy Mills… The tag of being amazed at the father’s love winked at me and drew me in.
    And I just wanted to say how touched I am by the beauty of this poem and the grace that is spilling out of it over all the edges. In a world which is so full of rulers measuring how good a Mum you are, a reminder that God creates beauty out of our mistakes as well as our love is like a precious stone in a pile of thistles.

    I so wish I could write like this … 🙂 You are aiming a super soaker of grace and love when you write, how beautiful is that?

    Thank you

    I’m also amazed at the father’s love today.

    • Ellie!! Thank you for your visit, and for your lovely and encouraging comment. Every blessing, Anita

  2. Beautiful and profoundly true – beauty for ashes. Thank you for writing this.

  3. Tears that is all I can say, reading this poem. Tears. I have been through this in a very deep valley the last two years. It seemed as soon as I praised God for my girls being in His will, the ground opened up to mock me, wiping me off my maternal feet. In the midst of my wondering, the soft gentle whisper came, “Am I not the perfect Parent? And yet, you all rebel against me.” i humbly agreed with my Heavenly Father.
    We sang “The Potter’s Hands” in church, recently. I saw myself over the last two years, especially, being pushed down by His hands.
    Anita, this is beautiful and as doubts plagued me again just last night and today, I feel healing. God has truly used your “pen” today.

    • God has truly used your “pen” today.
      Thanks so much, Mollie. What a wonderful thing to hear!

  4. This is so beautiful Anita, and especially poignant and helpful to me as my second daughter died at 8months and I asked myself time and time again some of those questions.

    • Thanks, Andrea. I am sorry to hear that; I didn’t know. One of mine, I think, is mildly dyslexic, but, of course, the second name of motherhood is guilt, and it’s unhelpful.