This morning didn’t go as planned. Wow!
How many days could I start off with THAT sentence! It was a typical
morning in our house. We got up, ate
breakfast, I showered, Bryson watched a show, Bryson took a bath, Bryson took
another bath…yes, that’s right. I have
always been impressed that he had never ‘dirtied’ the bath water. There have been times he needed to go and he
would stand up and insist on getting out of the tub beforehand. But not this morning (and I had just bragged
on him yesterday about this very thing).
I turned around to put something away and heard the dreaded words…”Momma,
yucky!”
The bath water was beyond disgusting and so began the
process of getting him out of the tub, draining the tub, cleaning the tub,
filling the tub up again, putting Bryson back in the tub and finally giving him
his final bath for the morning…sigh. It
wasn’t even 9:00 and a nap was calling my name!
This may have been fine any other morning but not for
today. We had lunch plans, errands to
run, my parents coming into town, a house to clean, a baby shower and Life
Group fellowship to get ready for…well, you get the picture. So we were behind before we ever left the
house.
What happened between the front door and Bryson’s car seat
is what stopped me dead in my tracks despite our tardiness. As I locked the front door, I headed towards
the van to put our stuff down and strap Bryson into his seat. The problem was (and I know no one has ever
experienced this but me, right?) Bryson had headed in the opposite direction of
the van.
The next few minutes went something like this…”Bryson, let’s
go!” No answer. “Bryson, we need to hurry up! Please come get in your seat.” No Bryson.
He was always in my line of sight; I just missed what he was doing. I watched him stare down at the grass and
bend over. I was starting to get annoyed…because
when he gets in his own little world, mine stops revolving around me and my
schedule.
As I started towards him, he started towards me with his
sippy cup in tow. But that wasn’t all. In his hand was a tiny little yellow flower,
a weed actually. He had picked it just
for me. As he walked my way, his
precious little voice said, “Momma, momma, momma…look!” He handed it to me with that sweet dimpled
smile.
All of a sudden it was okay that we were late. My son had taken time out of my rushing him
to enjoy something and share that enjoyment with me. Oh to be that small again and to not know how
to tell time and enjoy not knowing what it means to be late or behind schedule.
Oftentimes, it really is the small
things that bless you the most.
So my little two year old has served as a huge reminder to
enjoy the small things. His little act
of kindness challenges me to do my best in all things, but in the process, not
to miss out on the small things. What is
even more ironic? We weren’t late at all…we
had arrived early. Which gave me a
little extra time to love on this little boy God gave me to put life into
perspective.
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