This post is written by contributing writer, Jen from This Gal’s Journey.
There’s a little window next to our front door. It’s just his height, and that’s where he stands. Ice blue eyes peering out into the world, full of questions. And wonder.
He watches intently as I back the car up, around the corner of the house and pull out of the drive. He stays there, unmoving, until I am no longer in sight. At least I think he does. I see those eyes peering at me through the rear view mirror as I drive away. And as the distance between us grows so does the looming sense of guilt filling my heart.
Whether I’m going to work, running down to the shop or out for a run he watches and I shrink inside. Wondering if he wonders if I’ll come back. Wondering if he feels as abandoned as much as I feel like I’m abandoning him. Wondering if he’ll hold it against me when I get home.
Oh sure, he’s got Daddy there. And, let’s face it, Daddy is loads more fun than Mommy, and we all know it! Not to mention his sisters who adore him and fight over who gets to play with him now. He’s no more abandoned now than when I tuck him lovingly into his bed at night. And yet I feel as though he is.
Why is that? My head knows it’s good for him to spend time with his Daddy. And his sisters. And even playing quietly on his own even when I am there. Yet my heart rends each time I pull away. Why?
I also know that my job is exactly what God wants for me right now. And He wants me to take care of myself with exercise so I can better care for those around me. But the guilt, oh the guilt.
I manage to get my mind focused on the tasks at hand, and yet every so often the image of him, nose to glass, floats across my mind. My mommy heart breaks all over again and I’m ready to be home with him and his sweet sisters. All the while the wondering continues…will he remember?
I open the door and the sounds of belly laughter and pitter-pattering feet greet me. I told you Daddy was more fun. Then, he catches sight of me. He stops – the whole world stops – until a grin so big you’d be hard pressed to measure it, breaks onto his face and one of the three sweetest voices I’ve ever heard shouts, “Mommy!!!”
I stoop down and he runs to my arms, knocking me over in the process. We kiss and hug and laugh and squeal and my heart is full and whole once more. If he remembers, he chooses not to. The grace of a child – a baby – is like none other.
And that is when the Voice whispers deeply into my soul.
You so freely accept their grace. Why do you fight against Mine? Let me free you.
And for the first time all day (but it won’t be the last) I breathe deep the Free Air, and dance in my heart at the Grace in which I am immersed.
This post is linked to Women Living Well.Pin It