I believe that in every mother’s life there are moments when time stands still. Seconds that are frozen forever in her mind as vibrant as the day it happened. The smell, the lighting, the colors…
Staring in those big, grey baby eyes at the hospital as soon as the nurse places that sweet little miracle into your arms, straight from heaven. Realizing that you are holding a creation so pure and flawless. Someone dependant on you for everything this life has to give.
The first smile.
The first giggle.
The late night standing over their crib, the faint sound of his soft breath and the gentle breeze of the fan. The glow of the night light casting shadows on his rosy cheeks and sleepy eyes. The thought that nothing in this world could possibly be so perfect, so beautiful, so serene.
The fall afternoon at the park with the hysterical, infectious laughter as they slip down the yellow twisty slide and fly off into the sand.
The summer evening catching crawfish under the bridge.
The “again! Again!” after a favorite bedtime story, the hug goodnight, the early Saturday morning with three extra little bodies snuggled in your bed.
Sweet, perfect seconds frozen in time, never to be forgotten. Maybe they just simply are one of God’s tender mercies to remind us of his love and the love we are capable of feeling.
After finishing up the dishes on Friday I slipped on my shoes and ran outside to join my family to play on our driveway. The boys were decked out with their crash gear and helmets and flew around in circles on their bikes. My dad had just spray painted my niece’s old bike to look more “tough” for M, and R’s training wheels had recently been removed. This was one of those moments. My boys circled around me and time froze.
The cool breeze and the moist smell from the thunderstorm earlier that evening.
The sun preparing for it’s descent below the mountains, giving that red-orange glow to the summer evening.
The squeals and the laughter.
A perfect moment frozen in time and filed away in my memory, never to be forgotten. To think I could have missed it had I chosen to forgo slipping on my shoes and done something else.
Some nights I lay in bed and just stare at our ceiling. I replay those sweet memories over and over in my mind. When I look back on my life, I hope I see moment after precious moment, just like this one. I hope I see memories embodying the love I have for my children. Not a million texts I really didn’t need to send, not a Facebook screen I looked at far more often than I should have. Not the scale or the gym with extra hours spent every day wishing and working for that pre-baby body. Not the online games, not the latest episode of Downton Abbey, not the hours fretting in front of the mirror over make-up and hair to go to the grocery store. I wish I could say I was never guilty of any such things, but that would be a lie.
They grow up so fast. Every Mom knows that. The days slip by and we look back and wish. We long for those moments frozen in time. When I look back, I hope my desire is for those moments that where, not those that could have been. Because in the end, that’s what matters most. Those tender mercies reminding us of that most amazing kind of love.