Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Guest Blogger...Cara Putman

Fingerprints and Hugs



Fingers pressed to the glass. A smile that split his face. As I parked the car, Jonathan pushed open the storm door and flew down the sidewalk toward me.

He jumped up and down. Then when I picked him up, he hugged me, then patted, then hugged again over and over with a smile I hope I never forget.

He really missed me!

And I needed to know that.

Sometimes, as the parent who is always around, it’s easy to feel over-looked, taken-for-granted, even invisible. But after being gone for five days, I saw such a joy in my children’s eyes I couldn’t help smiling in response. My husband later told me Jonathan had insisted on being parked in front of the open door for the sixty minutes between my call from the airport and when I drove up the driveway.

Can I admit part of me was secretly thrilled!

At the same time, when I got home and saw Abigail and Jonathan I felt a quiet whisper in my soul. “Be careful. They won’t always respond with this exuberance. They won’t always be this small.” As I stand at a new fork in the road, I needed that reminder. Those pudgy fingers pressed to the door will soon be longer than mine. It won’t happen overnight. With Jonathan, it won’t even happen in the next five years. But before I know it, I will turn around and my son will be taller than me. My daughter will be dating, headed to college, and on her own.

So on the days I get tired of pudgy fingers wrapped around my leg refusing to let go, I will remember how wonderful it felt when they squeezed so tightly around my neck because of his excitement Mommy had finally come home.

And I will whisper a silent prayer that my heart will never be hardened to just how precious those tiny fingers and each moments are.

Thanks,
Cara
http://carasmusings.blogspot.com/

1 Comments:

At Friday, 29 September, 2006, Blogger Crystal said...

Ok, I'm the mom of a 21-year-old "boy," a 20-year-old "boy," an 18-year-old "boy" (he just had to sign up for Selective Service!) and a nearly 16-year-old man/boy--I can guarantold you that they will squeeze you even harder (ouch! You don't know your own strength!) and then they give you a little pat on the head (just because they now can.) These days are so sweet, but they are just as much precious and sweet because you can't help but remember the pudgy little boy from the past. Ah, brought tears to my eyes to read this from you.

 

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