Some days begin and end with discipline.
Sometimes I stare into a set or two of young, blue eyes and search for the heart's intent.
Some days are one thing after another... and another...
Some days are too short, some too long.
Sometimes my heart aches at the choices little hearts make.
Sometimes I feel unheard.
Some days two hands, one mind, and one heart seem not enough.
Some days....
I sat next to him on the bottom step, his eyes full, lips quivering, and his chest heaving sobs of emotion. He was distraught that he could not have what he wanted, when he wanted. I was distraught too, as I searched for my response. Back and forth, tug and pull, how do I guide this heart?
Off he went to cool down, and down I went to cool off. I collapsed my head onto the stair above, heaving emotions of my own. HOW do I guide THIS heart?
My pandora marched along, unknowing. The songs raced by, my face still buried in a carpeted stair. I remained still, waiting on God, letting go of myself. Then-the best moment of my day- a little boy came over and draped his body over mine. Little hands rubbed my hair in matted circles, and a gentle little voice spoke out,
"...God, jus help my mom to feel better... and have a good day... and help my brother be good... and God I'm jus so sorry for being frus-ur-ating for Mom... and God we jus love You... and Mom..."
He went on, but it didn't matter what he said. He rubbed and rubbed my hair, tenderness dripping from the same lips that can also bring pain. His heart was soft, his words addressed straight to our creator on behalf of his Momma.
In that moment it all became worth it- just to hear my little boy choose of his own initiative, his own compassion, to lay hands on me, and pray.
Sometimes I stare into a set or two of young, blue eyes and search for the heart's intent.
Some days are one thing after another... and another...
Some days are too short, some too long.
Sometimes my heart aches at the choices little hearts make.
Sometimes I feel unheard.
Some days two hands, one mind, and one heart seem not enough.
Some days....
I sat next to him on the bottom step, his eyes full, lips quivering, and his chest heaving sobs of emotion. He was distraught that he could not have what he wanted, when he wanted. I was distraught too, as I searched for my response. Back and forth, tug and pull, how do I guide this heart?
Off he went to cool down, and down I went to cool off. I collapsed my head onto the stair above, heaving emotions of my own. HOW do I guide THIS heart?
My pandora marched along, unknowing. The songs raced by, my face still buried in a carpeted stair. I remained still, waiting on God, letting go of myself. Then-the best moment of my day- a little boy came over and draped his body over mine. Little hands rubbed my hair in matted circles, and a gentle little voice spoke out,
"...God, jus help my mom to feel better... and have a good day... and help my brother be good... and God I'm jus so sorry for being frus-ur-ating for Mom... and God we jus love You... and Mom..."
He went on, but it didn't matter what he said. He rubbed and rubbed my hair, tenderness dripping from the same lips that can also bring pain. His heart was soft, his words addressed straight to our creator on behalf of his Momma.
In that moment it all became worth it- just to hear my little boy choose of his own initiative, his own compassion, to lay hands on me, and pray.
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