Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
That's her heart.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
I was reminded yesterday in church.
Later, the minister mentioned leaving the church parking lot to head out on a trip. He leaned over and asked "does he live in the church?"
He lives in our neighborhood, actually.
After a few minutes, T took hold of my hand, exploring the lines on it with his fingers and playing with my rings, and leaned his head against my shoulder. As I gazed down at his curls, the way his eyelashes hit his freckles, his little brown stick legs, his mis-buttoned shirt, dirty fingernails and two different flip flops (oops), I realized that I haven't been fair to him. Too often, I lump him into the same group as the older kids and for the most part he's happy to be there. But he's not one of them. He still marvels at his discoveries and plays pretend and likes to invent. He's a little afraid of the dark and sleeps with a lovey. He believes in Santa and the tooth fairy and miracles and magic. He's still trying on who he is and getting a feel for all his opportunities. His fingers are little, his feet are little, HE is little.
And I needed to be reminded of that.
Because I'm not ready to let that go just yet.
Monday, July 6, 2015
That moment when you tell your child – who you haven’t seen in nearly a week and you’re trying to give him some space because he’s a teenage boy and that’s what they need despite the fact that it’s killing you that you haven’t talked to him – that you miss him and he responds with this.
Hear that? It might have been the sound of my heart shattering into a million pieces.
On the bright side, he hasn’t texted me 178 times like his sister. Including at least 20 like this.
This is a partial shot. There seriously were too many emojis to fit on the screen.
She misses me. She's told me 67 times.
Oops, make that 68.