The God-graced moments in the plain of this life,
where I lift up my eyes,
and my soul is lifted to the mountain of God.
A long, hot shower,
those quiet moments nursing,
the view out the kitchen window over the stack waiting to be washed.
These are my vistas to Zion.
The mountain descends in the midst of the day, and the still, small voice whispers over our domestic noise. I do not always have the luxury of a long ascent. But the grace of this season is that just one step is enough, and He comes running the rest of the way, and He does not despise my dirty dishes.
Motherhood is a constant march to Zion – beautiful, beautiful Zion! – and each step can be worship, and each day can be prayer, and each home can be host to the city of God.