without a sound he stands in front of me. bed disheveled, face and arms creased from a night pressed into the pillow…tangled in sheets.
i know what he wants. to be held.
all eight years alive of him, wants to crawl into my less-room-than-years-ago-lap and be wrapped up in me for a moment.
my heart softens and reaches for joy at the same time…
in the restless world of a little boy, the morning greeting is most often a quick-as-possible hug. self thrown onto a couch alone for just enough waking up time to start moving through without end offerings of activity and imagine.
so this child’s need to cling to me for a few minutes is welcomed and accepted and stored up in my heart.
it wouldn’t matter if he had given me running for money the day before. if in the last thought i had been hoped for just one day free of voices and tugs and questions and answers and wash, rinse, repeat, repeat, repeat.
an impulsive coming to me for love and touch wipes every slate in me clean and there is only him and i in a bond of mother-child that is impenetrable.
“see how great a love the father has bestowed on us,
that we would be called children of god; and such we are….”
(I john 3:1, NASB)
some days i acknowledge god’s presence with a quick hug…a mumbled love you. a brief half smiled glance in response to who he is. some days i stop and ask to be held. needing to be wrapped up in him for a moment..to crawl into his impenetrable love for me.
“for i am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of god that is in christ jesus our lord.”
(romans 8:38-39, NIV)