It’s been one of those weekends where I have become acutely aware of my own shortcomings and time after time admit I was wrong and ask for forgiveness. Those times are never fun – they hurt like heck for one thing but then you have to choose what you’re going to do with the knowledge. My general leaning is to let myself wallow, lose hope and then eventually get on like it never happened.
This time, as Jude and I played at a nearby park, he came over to me and gave me a hug and a kiss, and spoke in his sweet boy voice as he looked up at me, “I love you momma” and then went on continuing to filling his pockets with rocks.
For all the moments that he makes me want to pull out my hair because of his disobedience, there is at least one moment like this, where the simplicity of childhood momentarily bleeds into my chaos of adulthood and everything is put in perspective. At least for a short time.
