Lub-dub

I lay beside you under the dragonfly quilt. We've said goodnight to the moon and all the cars and trucks and things that go. The room is almost dark, but I can still see your sleepy face.

"Can I hear your heartbeat?" I ask. A smile, a nod, then I lay my ear over your small chest. "Lub-dub, lub-dub," I whisper, in time with the beats. You always find that funny.

"Do you want to hear mine?"
"Yes!"

I jump out of bed, do a little dance to get things pumping, then settle back in. You lay your head down, and I put my arms around you.

"Can you hear it?"
You nod. Pause.

"Is that your heart?" you ask, wide-eyed.
"Yes."
"The one that God gave you?"
"Yes."

Yes, yes, yes.

How is it possible to feel my heart beating in two bodies? How can I give adequate thanks for these three year old kisses and chubby arms around my neck? How can so much wonder be wrapped up in a dragonfly quilt?

Sometimes prayer is simply this, quiet breaths of awe.


~lg

One red balloon

Once upon a one year old, a little boy fell in love with a red balloon.

It was your very first birthday party. There was a blue frosted boat cake with a candle, and singing, and presents, and the noisy joy of running children, and even Grandma. Your world was a merry one that day, hands dug into chocolate cake and ice cream, hugs from adoring family and friends. But your whole world stopped when one red balloon was snipped from the bunch and handed to you. You were hooked.   

Eyes wide, face turned up, floating somewhere between awe and glee, you held on for sheer joy. It bobbed and danced, played peek-a-boo and tickled your nose, and followed you wherever you went. You wouldn’t let go.

The party faded, for this was all you ever wanted and didn’t know it till now.

Funny how perfection can sneak up on you like that. You look over your shoulder just to make sure it’s still there. It is, and you glow rosy with it.

Oh, the wonder of first love – your heart captured on a string and lifted straight up as if by magic. You hold on and on, and this is pure happiness, and why would anyone ever let go? No, nothing compares to this singular balloon. Nothing compares to the weightless delight of one year old love.

~lg

Baby bear

Oh my baby boy, flushed and warm with milk, snuggle-sized and sleeping –

In these tender moments I marvel at my reality, you here with me.

Now you are my teddy bear, a growling, grinning bundle that fits just so in my arms.

Even so, you are growing, tumbling out of babyhood into more and more boy-ness. You stretch and roll and reach and I cannot contain you as I once did. I cannot hold all of this life, and I was never meant to, but I catch my moments when I can. That crooked smile of contentment, that chubby arm around my neck, that face buried soft in mine. Moments turn into days, and days fly by quick as autumn’s leaves.

The seasons shift and you shape into the boy you will be, the boy with a heart of a bear, and I pray for strength in all this shape-shifting. You will outgrow my arms and one day I may fit in yours, and that is the pain and joy of mothering a son; that is the reality we share.

Know that my arms will always be open and my prayers will always be fierce and my strength will never be enough, but His will be and we will both tumble into that. 

~lg