I could not help but feel a bit overwhelmed. Rocking back and forth, my little man in my lap, in the chair that used to sway him into deep slumber. We were quiet, stationary. The way it was not too long ago. The way it was until he was able to experience the world on his own two feet (or two hands, two knees, as his mode of transportation is still, shall we say, a choice that depends on whether or not he has footwear that has good traction)
My, how times have changed. Now, just keeping an eye on him is difficult, let alone keeping him in one place. So, tonight, he waited as I slowly pushed our plush green rocker back and forth...back and forth...while he silently and patiently allowed me to hold him. I recognized quickly, this was a gift.
Every few seconds his eyes looked up to greet mine, as if they were checking in, making sure I was still locked in. When am I not? It is amazing that nearly 14 months ago I had dreamed of these little eyes, his precocious grin, his button nose...but I had no concept of who my son would be. And now I know, and he is my everything.
In a class today, a friend shared this thought: Mary's Fiat...she did not say, "What is Your Will, Lord? Let me know, and I will go do it." No, she said, "I am the handmaid of the Lord. Be it done unto me, according to thy word."
Done...done unto me. That's it? That's it.
Calan is, in my very humble and completely unbiased opinion, perfect. I could not have dreamed up a more perfect child. Yet, that is just it. I didn't...He did. It was done, unto me. And the rest, well, it's history.
I need to constantly remind myself that God does... unto us. He requires little, really. Our love and our trust...like children. It all makes such sense.
As we sat and swayed, a little hand was raised, open palm. An invitation. My hand slowly encapsulated the nearly 14-month-old fingers it met. And there we sat, his hand resting in mine, purely loving, purely trusting. I took a deep breath. Be it done unto me.
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