Calvin didn’t want to leave me to go to preschool. On the days I leave in the morning for work, he tries to bar the door with his body, so I can’t leave. Or he’ll hug my leg as I try to walk through the entry way. The final blow is delivered when he’s scooped up in his Daddy’s arms and he wails as if I’m leaving forever, and buries his head and tear-filled eyes into his Daddy’s shoulder.
Those are the days it’s really hard to leave for work. I don’t want to work away from home. I wish I could spend more time with my son.
My time spent writing and blogging is not done during the day when my son is awake–rather, we spend time together snuggled on the couch reading books or we work together to tidy up the table or cook in the kitchen.
It’s bliss.
One morning, my son declared that I couldn’t leave for work yet–with hurt and concern in his eyes, he said I still had to play his trains and legos with him.
While eyeing the clock, I saw that I could wait to leave in just 10 more minutes and still arrive before the first patient of the day.
Well, okay. I can play one thing with you, but you have to pick one. Trains or Legos.
Legos.
Yes, that’s what I did. Dressed in work clothes, I sat cross-legged building a lego bridge for his trains. But, he still didn’t want me to leave him and go to work.
One day last week, I was feeling particularly awful and under the weather. I had a laundry list of things like . . . laundry and such to get done. But, I could only muster up the energy to change the sheets on one bed before I collapsed into a nap. While I usually feel like my life has a pretty good balance of work, time with family, focus on health and fitness, spirituality and character growth, time for reflection and quietude . . . this was a day where I felt miserable and failing. Faltering and weak. Challenged and destitute. It didn’t help that I had a cold. It didn’t help that I was getting a barrage of bad news.
I missed out on the family walk. I didn’t do much of anything most of the day. I did exactly what my body needed to do to rest and recover.
My son patted my arm with his small, little hand showing deep concern in his eyes. He looked very worried. In fact, later he told me he was quite worried about me.
He followed me around when I was awake, trailing me like a little puppy. He wanted to be hugged. To hug me. He wanted to be held in my arms and bury his face on my shoulder. He wanted to touch my cheek and then pepper it with kisses.
Mommy, God can make you better. I will pray for you.
Those sweet little prayers opened my eyes to reveal that life is sweet, precious, and filled with bountiful blessings. So, I was having a bad day. I got over it. I have my wonderful and merciful God to thank . . . as well as the two most special blessings in my life.
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