Mama Bear – a poem for mothers protecting their young

Living in the countryside is such a privilege. Truly.

The sound of rushing creek water in the winter, the exuberant buttercups in the spring, the cotton candy glow of summer evenings, and the golden light of autumn while watching the wildlife store up for winter is some kind of magic.

Like any place you live on this earth, it comes with its drawbacks and dangers. Skunks steal eggs. Foxes find the chicken coop. Mountain lions kill your goats and are a threat to human life depending on their desperation. Rattlesnakes are abundant, and contrary to popular belief, rattlesnakes can also be very quiet. Deathly so.

None of these things have to paralyze you in fear. You hone your “wildlife street smarts,” make it harder for danger to lurk where you are, but grow in confidence that you will know what to do whenever it does rear its head.

(And it will.)

This sounds like motherhood, huh?

We trust God with our whole hearts and each of our children while we face the danger and the beauty of this world head-on.

We don’t have to be paralyzed in fear by life in this broken, beautiful, but ugly world.

We grow in our wisdom and equip our children with the Truth. We help them discern danger and delight.

As for me? I will teach my children about rattlesnakes as soon as they are toddling in that garden, because they need to know. But I will also be pointing out the cotton candy summer evenings, tenacious yellow buttercups, golden skies, etc, etc, etc!

Our children need to be aware of danger, but they must also be made aware of beautiful things too!

A few years ago now, I noticed a rattlesnake slithering mere inches from my crawling daughter, and I’ve written about it in the following poem. The poem expresses the “mama bear” side of motherhood rather than the “wildflower” side.

And both are important.

People may or may not agree with my course of action concerning the rattlesnake, but I make no apologies. I am a mother. I will choose my children every time.