Today I Lacked Patience

Today I failed you Goosie.

I lacked patience.  And kindness.  And understanding.

When you ran through the library, shoeless, squealing as I was trying to register you for storytime.

When getting you dressed required physical strength to withstand your protests.

When you insisted on riding your bike to and from the driveway.  Every single time we left the house.

When you threw your whole breakfast on the floor yet insisted on eating the inedible play dough.

I didn’t yell much.  I didn’t scream.

But I withdrew.  Into myself.  To get away from the chaos.

And I fear perhaps you sense that.

Tonight before I crawled into bed, I went in your room and watched you sleep.  Eventually I picked you up and rocked you in my arms, breathing you in, mesmerized at the peace you found in slumber.  And as the tears rolled down my cheeks, I whispered an apology into your sleeping ear.

Because today I withdrew.  And you needed me.

Because just like the rest of us, you need love the most when you push away the hardest.  Because you need to know that my love remains steady amidst the chaos.  Because in this tumultuous world, you need my touch and my presence to be your home and your fortress.  Because one day you will be grown and gone and your world will be bigger than these four walls but your heart will remain molded by what occurred within them.  Because I only get one shot at this, and imperfect though I may be, I need to be able to look back and say always, always I was a vessel of grace.

Tomorrow is a new day, and tonight as my tears mix with a kiss on your cheek, I vow tomorrow to love you better.

I actually wrote this a few nights ago while lying in bed after a really tough day.  I couldn’t get it published from my phone at the time, so instead I share it with you tonight.