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Mornings with him are like this big surprise gift that is given each new morning. From downstairs I can hear his loud “plop” as he jumps from my bed, uh, our bed down to the floor. His fat three-year-old feet pounding the stairs in that same familiar pattern as he hustles his way down to me. The big smile that creeps across his precious face (and mine) as he rushes to me. The big breath I take as I loudly exclaim – “My baby! My baby!” and then after I make a huge deal about his morning arrival, I scoop him up into my arms and begin to kiss him all over his face. I love our morning ritual.
On the mornings I am too distracted by life to recognize this daily gift, he reminds me. He stands in front of me, with that big smile, and taps me with that chubby little index finger, as if to say “I am here, here I am!” He is clearly convinced that he snuck down the stairs without me hearing him, and that I must have just not seen him yet or I surely would have made a big deal out of his presence…and just like that, with that little finger tapping me, I have a re-do. A chance to get it right. And I do.
I know in my heart that I won’t always get a re-do. I thought about that as my storm of kisses landed in his cheeks and lips this morning. I no longer smooch the mess out of my oldest. Sure I kiss and hug him still – but I can’t scoop his six foot frame up into my lap, and he’d probably throw up if I suffocated him with the same affection that my three-year-old craves. My heart feels like this will last forever…but my mind knows better. Soon enough I will run out of re-do’s.
Please Lord, give me the wisdom to appreciate each of these moments, because they are not infinite. Let me see each day as the gift it is…even when our blessed chaos is so frustrating, help me to see the preciousness in it. Thank You for my blessings, especially for the five you entrusted us with. I love You.
