While I had planned to write this post since it happened on Thursday, in light of Friday’s horrible tragedy, this seemed more fitting than my usual light-hearted Sunday night lessons post. May you cherish the little moments…
Thursday morning Little came into the bathroom while I was getting ready and asked, “Is it almost your birthday?”
“No, not until the summer. Why?”
“I want to get you a present.”
“That’s so thoughtful. What do you want to get me?”
“Maybe some princess Squinkies. No, no, because then it wouldn’t be a surprise. I want it to be a surprise.”
It was sweet, simple, sincere. I don’t know where he got the idea that he wanted to do something for me, but it wasn’t surprising to me. He’s a thoughtful boy, always thinking of other people and what might make them happy.
Well, that afternoon, as we were driving home from preschool, he fell asleep in the car. When we got home, I picked him up to carry him inside. He reached for me, laid his head on my shoulder, and melted into me. His long arms wrapped around my neck, his lanky legs grabbed my hips, and I couldn’t help but think, there it is. The gift.
He didn’t realize what he was giving me. But it was exactly what I needed. My heart—which had been feeling a bit Grinchy that day—was suddenly full. Even overflowing.
There was no denying his size, his strength, his new-found four-ness—the very qualities that sometimes overshadow his tender heart. But somehow, at that moment, his very essence was all wrapped up in one sweet package. I didn’t want to let go. And neither did he. So we held each other tight and embraced the moment.
What a gift.