The Hand that Rocks the Cradle...

THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE...


Is consumed with caring for her sweet boy, husband, and home. She can't do it without wisdom, strength, and encouragement from the Father! She is desperate for Him.

Couldn't have imagined the challenges and joys she has experienced in just a couple short months. She doesn't have much time to sit back and reflect, but when she does, she is overwhelmed with gratitude for God's faithfulness.

Is grateful for a loving and supportive husband who makes it possible for her to be the one who comforts her sweet babe all day long. She thanks God that he gave her a man that has a passion for family!

Knows she is extremely blessed to have a husband who is constantly encouraging her spiritually, emotionally, and physically as she cares for his child. She knows it is a gift to have a husband who will help her in the wee hours of the night and still wake up in the morning with a smile on his face.

Is taken back by friends and family who have graciously served her through infections, sleepless nights, and postpartum emotions. She cries as she realizes that her mother still desires to love and care for her just like she cares for her new baby.

Doesn't know how to put into words how "motherhood" has rocked her world! It requires constant prayer. It requires her to lay down more and more of herself. It has brought her weaknesses into the light and has left her begging for a passion to serve. It has brought her so much joy. It is PRICELESS!

Watches her sweet boy as he grows and changes each and every day! She can't believe how quickly he is changing. She knows that right now he is a crying baby full of demands, but she asks God for the strength to enjoy each moment because she also knows he won't be like this for long.
Doesn't have much time to write on this blog because these guys keep her pretty busy :)!

Blessings on the hand of women! Angels guard its strength and grace, In the palace, cottage, hovel, Oh, no matter where the place; Would that never storms assailed it, Rainbows ever gently curled; For the hand that rocks the cradle Is the hand that rules the world. Infancy's the tender fountain, Power may with beauty flow, Mother's first to guide the streamlets, From them souls unresting grow— Grow on for the good or evil, Sunshine streamed or evil hurled; For the hand that rocks the cradle Is the hand that rules the world. Woman, how divine your mission Here upon our natal sod! Keep, oh, keep the young heart open Always to the breath of God! All true trophies of the ages Are from mother-love impearled; For the hand that rocks the cradle Is the hand that rules the world. Blessings on the hand of women! Fathers, sons, and daughters cry, And the sacred song is mingled With the worship in the sky— Mingles where no tempest darkens, Rainbows evermore are hurled; For the hand that rocks the cradle Is the hand that rules the world.

By William Ross Wallace