Afternoon sun, children playing, but my Little Man is grumpy.
He climbs up, snot-covered, begging for a place on my lap. I wrap him in my arms and my jacket.
He rests, a content comfort-taker, in my arms.
He is wrapped in the warmth of mom and God.
We hide together from the cool breeze. The perfect dose of sunshine rests on us, and we see no reason to move. My wedding ring reflects rainbows, but I think of this boy, and his forever-life, made to last longer even than the diamond I wear. I hold this life in its small beginnings, this little, eternal life.
A gust of wind reaches his bare legs, and he complains. I fix his small problem, gladly, and he rests again.
On my lap and in my care I feel the light weight of a little boy. But what is the weight of his life, his eternal soul? I cannot comprehend the gravity of this moment, this vocation. I fear it would crush me if I could.
Yet at this moment, his heaviness does not oppress.
My son and my God have surrounded me with gentle, forever-warmth.
I receive the sun in its perfect dose, and I am also a comfort-taker.