I immediately jumped up to grab him almost as soon as he hit the concrete patio.
Heart racing and tears already falling (mine, not his), I was just so sad my little son had taken the tumble and wondered in that microsecond what injuries he would sustain…damage to his baby teeth, or a skinned knee and elbow, or something broken?
At the same time I was wondering all those could-be things, I was most of all wanting to grab him tight and comfort him in my lap.
So in one swoop, I gathered him up (it was slow motion in my head), cradled him next to me on the bench and did a thorough check.
He was stunned by it all. The fall. The rescue. The examination.
He was just fine.
My heartbeat settled and all I wanted to do the rest of the afternoon was to just sit and hold him tight, gently rocking and humming a comforting tune.
In those mothering activities of comforting him, God allowed me to be comforted.
I thought then what I am thinking today as the younger son just pulled out for his summer of work away from home…”How can I comfort him if he needs me but I can’t get to him in an instant?”
The nest on the front porch keeps taunting me as the mother bird has made it a place of safety and beauty for her own babies. At the right time, she’ll push them out for their lessons in flying and she’ll see to it that they learn in the safety of her watchful eye and handy wings to swoop and break their falls that will surely happen. She’ll finish her task as they take one last solo flight and move on to trees in the yard and finally trees elsewhere, out of her sight. Will she be comforted in knowing she did her job well?
Mothers comfort their children. A godly mother has the comfort of her Father to remind her that she was a wise steward of the high calling God gave her. I take comfort in that thought today.
I’m comforted by the writings of others today, too, at…