urgent replaced with the real

I told Samuel that he could cuddle with me before his nap. It had been an active morning, and I had been busy most of the morning. He was tired — you could see it. The little rubs of his eyes and the yawns that he tried so hard to hide.

Nap time, Samuel.

Without missing a beat Samuel said to me in his sweet little voice I want mommy.

He stood there in the living room, with that very tired looking face, and basically asked me to stop with my busy and tend to him. I thought of all I had to do — laundry, cleaning the office, writing a contributor post, figuring out dinner, driving Grace to ballet — it all seemed so urgent. So now.

Then I saw that very sweet little face.

You want to cuddle for a couple minutes, Samuel?

The face lit up with excitement, with joy, and he came running over to me. I gathered up that toddler body, a body that in years to come will get too big for me to easily pick up, and carried him upstairs. He leaned into my shoulder, resting with each step. I held him without a time table, an agenda, and a schedule.

He snuggled down into the crook of my arm, an arm that he still fits into, and  rested. After a couple minutes, my Samuel started patting my face. Then those little hands of his grabbed my face and he whispered to me these simple, yet life-blessing, words — mom, mom, mom, I love you.

That was it.

My two year old, who I’ve never explained about love and yet he gets it, taking a moment right before he fell asleep to get my attention and tell me he loved me.

Tears filled my eyes. Eyes that were now so grateful to be just a little less busy, eyes that for a moment could see clearly at the real important, eyes that were filled with a joy that cannot be found, but that is gifted.

I love you, too, Samuel.

And then, I felt his little body rest and fall asleep.

It was a stepping away moment in time – a moment where I was blessed to have the discernment to replace the so-called urgent with the real. A profound moment in motherhood, one where Samuel will probably never remember except for this written record, but a moment that will forever be etched on my mother heart.

Slow down, slow down, slow down. Those 15 minutes spent with Samuel resting in my arm are forever moments. The cleaning or writing or urgents would have been lost in time. But, this snippet of time captured on a March afternoon?

I will remember it.

Mom, Mom, Mom, I love you.

Slow down today, just for a bit, my friends. Sit on the floor, read a book, cuddle, listen to those around you. Slow down and replace just a bit of the urgent with the real.