I am not the perfect mother.
I love my boy more than life itself, but sometimes I lose my temper, get impatient and count the hours until bedtime. Sometime I don’t want to get on the floor and build another tower, and throw another ball into a bucket. Sometimes I’d rather just sit on the couch and browse Pinterest on my phone while he plays beside me.
And often in those moments there is a struggle within. A struggle with guilt that I’m not doing enough, not being intentional enough, just not enough.
On other days I’m so full of creative energy and can’t wait to explore the world with him, snuggle on the couch and read the books that have each been read one hundred times over.
A few months back we were walking down the grocery store aisles and suddenly my sweet boy reached up from the front of the cart for a hug. And right there between the canned peaches and double stuffed Oreos I reached down and hugged that little body right back. We stayed like that for more than a moment, hidden in that very average grocery store aisle, on that very average day, sharing a moment pregnant with love and all the beauty of life.
Those are the moments I hold onto on the long days, the sick days, the grumpy days.
Those are the moments I’m reminded how my Father in heaven feels about me, about all of us. So full of love, and grace, and always ready to draw us into the sweetest embrace the instant our arms reach up for Him.