A Safe Place

Isn't it funny how simplest things cause you to contemplate life and it's complexities?

The other day my son, now two years old, did nothing out of the ordinary. He picked out his favorite book, wiggled himself squarely into my lap, leaned into my chest putting his thumb in his mouth and his finger in his belly button quite content indeed. I inhaled deeply the scent of him and the outside world seemed to melt away. I kissed his fuzzy head and slowly opened the favored book to begin reading a story I can say by heart. He's two. He's transitioned to "toddler", but he's still my baby and as I finished reading the book and he says "de end!", he hops down off my lap and I almost cry.

You see, I love it when he does this. I love to be his place of peace. I love that he's comfortable here. I love that my lap, with arms supporting on either side in a constant hug is one of his favorite places to sit. I love that he fights for this space when older sisters have claimed it and he says "No, Dowa. No Dacy, Sammy turn!". I love that his comfort comes from my embrace when he's hurt, sad, or just woke up from his nap. It's safe there. He fits there. He belongs there... for now. Someday he will "outgrow" my lap.

It's so easy for me to see this with my son. It's not so easy to see when I'm on the other end. When I'm the one who has become so independent that I don't seek out that safe place as often. But He loves it when I do. He loves that His arms are the ones that I run to, that support me in a constant hug. He loves when I fight for that space when the day to day activities of life threaten to claimed that time. He wants me to be comfortable there. No pressure, no guilt, no pleading, but the constant desire to always have me near.

He wants me.

It's the simple things in life that make you contemplate it's complexities...