Post-nap tears

I picked Elijah up out of his crib, in the guest room where he naps. I let him keep his pacifier, and, like we often do, I slipped into the green recliner and just started rocking. He's wide awake. But it's a sweet time for us. As long as he gets some extra time with his "pa-pa" he will let me hold him and snuggle with him. He was such a snuggler when he was little but he has a bit too much on his daily agenda to have much time for mom -- unless a book, a movie, or pa-pa is involved.

So I know I'm hormonal. But even hormonally, I don't often find myself holding my little boy and crying. I'm tearing up. He's so big. He'll be two this month. But his hand is resting on my chest. I look at it. He has those little boy nails -- jagged with ground-in dirt placed underneath them randomly. But they are still baby hands. Dimples on each of the knuckles. He's so tall his legs are dangling over the edge of my lap. But he's sucking his pacifier just like the little boy he is. Oh and he's wearing his blue hat. That darned hat. I've tried hiding his blue one and Isaac's brown one, but they are addicted to them. They sleep in them. They'd bathe in them if I let them. I lean down and kiss that blue hat. He smells like a little boy. A mixture of Johnson's Baby Shampoo, dirt, sweat, and innocence all rolled into one.

I love him so much. I love him with all that I am. People told me of this intense love mothers had for their children. But I didn't believe it until I experienced it with first Isaac and now Elijah.

My boys give me a picture of Christ's love. Last night, as they drifted to sleep in their toddler beds in the room they share at night, Isaac picked up a book, and like only a brother would, hauled off and hit Elijah over the head with it. From the sound of Elijah's scream, there was little doubt that the hit was as hard as a skinny little Isaac could muster. JB and I went running in. Hubby grabbed Isaac to punish him (he takes his hat away and puts him in the crib next door for a few minutes.) I scooped up Elijah and held him as he muffled his face into my shoulder.

And then when Isaac was returned to his bed a few minutes later, I hugged him too. The guilty one. How much was my love for him despite the sinful nature of his deed. I'm his mom. Truly, there is nothing they could do that would stop me from loving them.

I know some parents have high hopess for their children. But I really don't. I want them to love Jesus. And I want them to be happy. If they are working in a fast-food restaurant or working in a fifty story building in New York City, I will be happy. I will love them no matter what they look like, how they act, or who they become. I don't need a college graduate. I don't need a straight-A student. I just want them to love the Lord and serve Him. That's all.

And I know that's how God feels about us. He doesn't care about the incidentals. He doesn't care what we've done or what our past is full of. He just loves us. He can quickly forgive and forget the fact that we just hauled off and smacked our neighbor over the head with our words or carelessness. He loves us afterall -- without ceasing, without works.

I know some of you reading this are still waiting on your babies. I know some of you reading this didn't have a good relationship with your own parents. But if you have either, try to remember that Christ's love for us is the same as our love for our children and the love our parents had for us. Nothing, truly, nothing could stop us from loving them. It's the reason so many grown adults are enabled by their parents. Can you blame those parents for loving them and believing the best despite the fact that there is no reason they should give them another chance? That's their boy! That's their girl! It's unconditional, without end, love.

Amen.