Saturday, December 15, 2012


His warm little hand slid into mine as we stepped out into the sunlight.  The sun felt good, but the breeze was biting, so I warned him we had to stay in the sun.

"Okay, Mommy!" he proclaimed.  He was so happy to be outside.  He had begged me, over and over, until I had relented and we went for a walk.

"When we cross the street, you hold Mommy's hand, okay?"  I instructed as we walked around our neighborhood.  "Promise Mommy."

"Promise, Mommy!" he proclaimed, and then began indulging in his favorite pastime of running in circles.

And so, I watched the sunlight glint off of his gorgeous curly hair, so much like mine, and I watched as his cheeks got red from the exercise, and I had to hide my tears, because I knew that there are families that will never get to see their little boys and girls running around again.

He got ahead of me a few times, and I called to him, saying, "Bug, if you don't stay close, we have to go back home."  That usually stopped him dead in his tracks, and he would dutifully come back and carefully squeeze my hand, saying, "Sorry, Mommy."

"I just want you to be safe, buddy," I told him, as we made our way back, hand in hand.  "Because there are cars and we have to be careful."

But still, he'd get ahead of me.  And when he did that it pulled at my heart even more.  How much longer will I be able to protect him for?  Already he's gotten so independent, and he wants to do everything on his own.  Can I really keep him safe?

Am I going to be afraid every day of his life?

How can I trust anyone with him?

He realized he'd gotten too far away, and so he came running back, laughing, his eyes sparkling like it was all some big joke.  "Mommy's slow," he observed.

"Yes," I said wryly.  "Being pregnant doesn't do much for Mommy's run time."

And I felt the warm fingers in my hand again, and prayed that God would keep him safe, and close to me.  Because I don't want to live in a world without him and his brothers.

And I won't always be able to protect him.

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