Thursday, July 28, 2011

A prayer

As I walked through the house tonight on my usual trek of checking and double-checking locks (thanks for this habit, Daddy), I had to move Puppy's new Cozy Coupe out of my way.  Except when I saw it, I didn't see it.  Instead I saw the delighted face of my sweet son, the expression he wears every time he crawls inside, shuts the door oh-so-carefully, and then begins to turn the key and spin the wheel around.  In his little mind, Will is driving off to parts unknown, exploring the world and having adventures.  I realize this and my heart breaks just a tiny bit.

Lord, it's going too fast.  Slow it down, slow it down.

Then I remember earlier today when Will was zooming several of his cars across the landscape of my desk while I sat at my laptop.  He was moving cars up and down a red ramp and must have dropped one and bent to retrieve it because I heard a sudden bump and the telltale shock-cry start up.  I looked at him over the desk and our eyes met and there I saw the tearful, unspoken plea:  "Mama, I'm hurt and I need you!"  As quickly as I could I rounded the desk and scooped him up and rubbed his head and whispered in his ear that he was okay, it was okay, it was just a nasty bump, and Mama has a mean ole desk.  I held him until he was calmed and as I began to release him, he held on tighter.  I squeezed him back.  And then I whispered "Mama loves you.  I love you very much."  And we kept squeezing and holding for another few minutes.  And my heart broke just a tiny bit.

He won't always want me to hold him.  These baby arms will grow and mature and change and reach for other comforts.  Should I have been at my laptop?  Perhaps I should have been playing with him, seizing every moment of his babyhood.  I have to play with him more.  Lord, it's going too fast.  Slow it down, slow it down.

And earlier tonight, as I reached down to lift him from the bathtub, I could hardly register the wet weight of my big little boyWhen did he get so big?  I took him to his bedroom and toweled him off and we worked on learning another vocabulary word.  He pointed to my elbow and said "ball," as he has done often before.  I shook my head and said "No, Puppy, 'elbow.'  Say it with Mama, ellll-booow."  He looked up at me and said confidently, "bow."  I shook my head again but this time with an encouraging smile, "Close," I said.  "Look at Mama's lips:  ellll-booow."  He watched my lips carefully as I repeated myself, then with the sound of a question in his tone, said "ehh-bow?"  YES!  I shouted and clapped for him.  Yes, sweet boy, yes.  You learned a word.  You're learning this beautiful language that your Mama loves so much.  But not nearly as much as the sound of it coming from your precious mouth.  I hear it and my heart breaks just a tiny bit.

One day we'll talk.  We'll have so many conversations, my son and I.  We'll be great pals and hopefully he'll love coffee and we'll drink it together and we'll have chats and he'll tell me about his life and his plans and his dreams.  But please, Lord, not yet.  Lord, it's going too fast.  Slow it down, slow it down.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh Becky! How I can relate to exactly what you are saying...Lord, Slow it down. Slow it down. I see that not only with my children but in the daily routine of my life. I only pray that my kids will slow down enough to sit and talk and sip coffee with me as they get older. In this fast paced technology world, may they learn and let God's word fall deep in their hearts, "Be Still and know that I am God." ~Mel

emily ann. said...

I am so glad you are blogging again! :) I have had these same thoughts recently - especially with Nells. :)

Kristen said...

I think most parents, especially us sentimental moms, can relate to these feelings, Becky. I had that thought just last night. I was sitting at the fourth hole on the fairway while Simon was golfing for his leagues and I prayed that prayer. There, in the place of my sweet little firstborn, was this gangly 6th grader talking about pars and pre-algebra this Fall. Just a blink ago he was lining up his matchbox cars playing "parking lot" and in another blink he'll be heading off to high school. It's going too fast.

Then there's my hulk of a 3rd grader who took the field for football practice the other night. I was watching from the sideline as he practiced tackles and blocking, all suited up in pads and a helmet. As he was telling me about how much he likes "plowing down those kids like garden gnomes" I was just thinking - slow it down, Lord.

And then there's little Anna, our sweet blonde-haired, blue-eyed hurricane of a baby girl. I cleared out another round of sweet dresses and shoes from her closet, sizes never to be worn again at our house. No more exersaucers and biter biscuits for her. Now she's playing dolls and kitchen and trying to put on her own shoes. She's 19 months going on 9 years. It's too fast.

And just about the time I'm ready to lose it thinking about all that's passed, I dream a little about what's ahead of us. I'm looking forward to first girlfriends and boyfriends, dreaming of future careers, going on trips without the pack 'n play, proms and graduations and weddings. And I feel so lucky to hold them for now.

Marty said...

Baby, I LOVE your post! Thank you so much for putting all your beautiful thoughts down. Having children gives us so many blessings; and one of them is having the opportunity to experience their growing - the bittersweet of it, which you describe so well - and the desire to just slow the wonderful experience down. I don't think we get that type of life experience outside of having our own children, as much as we love other children in our family. Let's hold on to our little Pup and Lou and hug them tightly every day. And thank God for the wonderful blessing of them! Plus, just like Kristen said, we should look forward to all the good times that are ahead!

I love you!

Marty

Angie said...

I have a lump in my throat....such sweet writing.

Kristen said...

Seriously? Marty, you are just too wonderful for words! What a perfect match for my dear friend.