He was flying with open arms jetting around the island.

The kitchen island, zoom, zooming.

On little legs spinning fast and teasing his sister and chasing the dog tail and singing songs made up and laughing on full throttle.

‘Til

He fell.

Hard.

A pinky toe caught a glaring corner and the giggles turned to sobs unexpected.

I picked him up with Oh, baby, you are ok and wiped away the stubbing scratch.

Setting him down as fast as I had scooped him.

No! He wailed again. I’m not ready he wept.

Not ready? What do you mean, not ready?

I need you, Mama, hold me.

I looked at him puzzled for just a moment. He was fine. His toe was scraped, but my dragon-slaying, bulldozer-driving little one doesn’t let this stuff get him down.

Checking again, I examined his foot. Did something else happen? Did he stub so hard it’s broken?

No. All good.

Mama, hold me.

Ok, honey, I say, privileged, and forgetting the chores and remembering who I am for him.

And so I cuddled and nestled and sang and prayed and pulled up close a cozy blanket and stroked his curls amiss and he found his peace and found my love on our limp and stammering day slipping by quickly.

{and I want to grab tight the space in time that this sunlight dances and stands still just this moment for us.}

He fluttered lashes at me from the crook of my arm and I marveled at how he has crept close to this heart of mine and how he finds refuge in my mothering and how life- things can trip us up and fell us and scrape hard and rough and how we stand up and brush off and move on and how sometimes we

Just.

Can’t pick up so fast.

And how we say:

Lord, I’m just weary today and I just stumble and falter and I need more of You.

Can I stay a bit longer? Can I snuggle in Your truth and move close to Your sheltering… just a bit more? Just a bit longer? Can I just stop quietly and take this breath forgiveness- full with You? Will You draw me close and keep me upright and love me in mercy and move me in peace and warm me in grace?

And He says My child, you’re mine, My beloved, My own and He bundles us warm quilt-familiar close and we have this refuge- real and this Father-forever and this love-tent covering and this hideaway- harboring and this shield- safekeeping… and He says

Always.

… and we can heal from our blundering and rest from our floundering and find Him, there, peace-filled protecting… where He always is…

waiting to gather us up again and again and again.

…He will care for His flock, gathering the lambs in His arms, hugging them as He carries them… leading… to good pasture… Isaiah 40 MSG