Motherhood reveals the image of God in a profound way.
I witnessed my friend, Melissa, mother her kids. She peacefully prepared three plates of food for her young boys. Yogurt. Chicken. Ketchup. Noodles. They sat around and ate while trying to teach the baby to say “Bible” and instead he shouts, “Jack, Jack.” The room laughs.
Later that night she held her toddler on her lap for sweet face-to-face time before bed. He curled into Melissa like her lap belongs to him. It does.
Her arms, her face, her knees that bend low to listen. Her hands that hold the book at bedtime.
In some ways her body belongs to her boys because she mothers them with many moments of her day, with every muscle and joint.
While watching Melissa wipe sticky hands, build legos, cook tomato soup, and instruct with wisdom, I realized motherhood reveals the image of God in one profound way.