Sunday, November 22, 2009

Rushing Away

I almost missed it. As usual, I was in a hurry -- on my way out the door, rushed and flustered. Yet the questions continued to fire in my direction. Why do they not see that I need to go? Why can't they ask their dad for help?

"Mom? How do you spell spaghetti?"

"Mom? Can I send my email now?"

"MOM! Can I put this clip in your hair?"

I rattle back the answers, trying to maintain composure. "'S-p-a-g-h-e-t-t-i,' Aidan. Yes you may, Bethie. Sorry, Ava, not now. Mommy has to go." Her face falls. She glances down at the purple barrette cradled in the palm of her hand. I see the look. Something hurts inside. I sigh and kneel down.

"Okay, honey. It sure is pretty." I tilt my head toward hers. And I wait. It extends my delay by maybe two minutes. A drop in the bucket. But so rich is that drop. And to think that I almost rushed away from it.

The way her small hands fumble with the clasp and reach for a lock of my hair. The way her gentle breath feels on my face as she focuses on her work. The way her long brown curls brush across her waist as she leans into me. The way her bare toes grip the floor as she stands tall to adorn her mama.

I kiss the dear, pink cheeks. "Thank you, sweetie." She smiles, content. And I know once again that to unnecessarily rush a child is to risk missing out on an irreplaceable, holy moment.
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1 comment:

  1. What a sweet mama you are! :) It is so nice to hear someone cherishing those little moments with their babies; I have met far too many moms who do always just want to rush out the door without so much as a glance behind them. Another nice blog! :)



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