The little boy slipped, fell down and winced, clutching his knee. His entire little face squeezed upon itself saying, “Pain!” Wiping grease from my chin I felt my full belly roll over from its rest, half moaning, “What’s this?” Tired of ten million worries and fears and responsibilities my heart groaned, “What now?” My head commanded, “You better check on that little boy. He’s yours.”
My paternal instinct knew that the damage was not critical, so I slowly rose from my comfort and took my time in arriving to the accident scene. The skinny little boy was dirtied from playing and falling in the dirt, and his thin limbs were all rolled up with him on his side. He told me it hurt “here and here”. Yielding to the inconvenience, I scooped him up tenderly going through the motions. We filled a bag with ice to cool the hurt “here and here” and to shrink the bump now rising on his temple. A pretty hard knock after all. Still, my heart secretly longed for that comfy chair.
Then the Spirit spoke up. Look at him, your little boy. Look at him, he’s hurt and crying. This is a chance. My heart – although at times indifferent – at its core, loves to love. And it opened up and began to love and sent soothing words to fall from my lips to heal the hurt here and here.
My boy blinked his tears away and let out a long sigh, his thin body going limp to rest in my arms. Yes, daddy loves me. And upon hearing this and feeling this, the cocoon of indifference completely melted away, and I sat for as long as needed as we bathed in the Spirit of love.
And then I sat and lingered for a little longer than needed — really much more comfortable than before.