MY Boy – a Day in the life of a Mother
I LOOK at the shiny-shaggy hair and the round, blue grey eyes;
the small pink tongue struggling impatiently against tiny white teeth to form a word,
to convey an exciting new-born thought;
the broad little boy hand covered with dirt, reaching to touch my cheek;
and suddenly I realise the astounding responsibilities that are mine before that hand expands to a man’s hand.
O God, hold my son’s hand while he crosses the danger-filled street to manhood.
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| Picasso: Mother and Child |
This was to be my stay-at-home-and-get-a-few-things-done day!
That would be just fine, except for one thing: I had a toddler who wanted to help.
I finish the washing, and he struggles the piles of clean clothes toward their dresser drawers. I suppose a hundred years from now I won’t care that they started the trip neatly folded.
I sweep the floor, and he insists on helping me by emptying the dustpan. In the overall scheme of things, I suppose the fact that he dumped the dirt back onto the floor is relatively unimportant.
I begin mixing ingredients for yeast rolls, and he insists on adding the flour. If I look at the situation optimistically, unbleached white is a good colour on me.
I do know he is really trying, Lord. And I know he needs practice to learn. But it would truly be so much easier to simply do it myself.
I watch, filled with apprehension, as he teeters toward me, chubby hands cupping fragile eggs, and I am suddenly aware that you, God, have entrusted me with the fragile life of this child. Guide me as I help my Little helper become YOUR man!“Ah Lord GOD! Behold, You have made the heavens and the earth by Your great power and by Your outstretched arm! Nothing is too difficult for You.”
Jeremiah 32:17 (NASB)
