Rush to get my babe. Rush home. Mom play with me. Rush to start dinner, Rush to make tortillas, Rush to get him fed before bedtime. Hunger mixes with frustration & an overwhelmed little boy becomes a sweet mess. Tears fall. No dinner! No jammies! No bed! We sit quietly in the dark bedroom snuggled together. Moooom….read, read book. A still soft voice cuts to my heart. His heart lost in the Rush.
Lost in the Rush to provide, to care for, to serve. Done always with a loving heart & the best of intentions. My intentions. My routine. My needs. Not his. His needs are always time. In the middle of the Rush he needs my time. Quality time, quiet time, intentional time. The way to speak to his heart & fill his spirit already so developed.
He doesn’t care what we have for dinner, if the house is clean, if he gets a bath or if he goes to bed on time. He cares if I read to him, let him crawl in my lap & pause the world for just us. He cares if I take 15 minutes, 30 minutes…any minutes. To stop and say you my love, you come first tonight. You have my attention. You are my priority right now. Come sit in my lap. Let’s read all the books. Let’s dream wild dreams