The Small Things.

It is Saturday.   6 am to be exact.  The bedroom door opens.  I hear pitter-pattering around to my side of the bed. My son says good morning in the sweet voice of a two-year-old learning to talk.  How does a mother resist the invitation, even this early in the morning? 

He and I get up.  He gets a sippy cup of milk and clutches his favorite Matchbox car.  I pour coffee into my favorite mug.  We both know the routine.  We walk to the couch.  He crawls up onto my lap as I set up the laptop computer on the coffee table.  I cue up a cartoon on his ½ of the computer screen.  I pull up the local online newspaper on my ½ of the screen.  He sips milk, I sip coffee, and we share this quiet space together as we snuggle.  My son is a lover of movement.  It is only in these stolen early morning moments, while his eyes are still sleepy, that I get to hold him in my arms, quietly rocking.  

I read of Titus Haines and his family.  The tears roll as I silently pray.  This past, particularly difficult week, full of chaos, long days, and an impossibly long list of things to do fades immediately.  While Titus’ mom is at the hospital looking for answers for her beloved boy, my beloved boy is cradled in my arms.  Lord, forgive my ingratitude.  Forgive my secret hissy fit (the one only you know about) at the gas pump on Wednesday as I was almost to the closing and got a call that the air conditioner suddenly wasn't working and the buyer wanted to know why …, and I didn't know why, it worked 2 days ago, and I didn’t have time for this, and I had to get back to the office to take care of four other problems awaiting my return.  I'm sorry for losing perspective.  Thank you, Lord, for the small things that remind us of your great blessings in our lives.  Don’t let me roll through the days so focused on the list of things to do that I overlook the small moments quietly revealing your extravagant love.  And, Lord, rest your presence heavy on the Haines family as they wait on you.