When they were little I got to curate experiences of controlled risk, to gently nudge their growth, and to put them down for naps when it all became too much.

The world is not so kind as me, I think.

It doesn’t care so much about their limits.

It doesn’t care that one of them will forget to eat;

that one will have floods of deep cynicism that will blow over like a raincloud if you just wait a little;

that another simply can’t be asked to concentrate when there’s a mysterious ticking sound coming from a distant room.

It doesn’t care how desperately each one wants their dreams to come true.

The world is not afraid of breaking their hearts.

Was I hard enough on them, in my gentleness?

Was I gentle enough, when life was hard?

Today, if they need it, will someone else give them a snack or a nap?

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Jesus.. follow them out there, in the wild where I cannot go.

Know them better than this mama heart,

and love them better too,

and tend to them.