Only Mommy Will Do

The cereal crunches underneath my feet and the toys jab at my steps, but my littlest girl’s tears pull me through the mess.

I want you, Mommy.

Scooping her up, I trek back through the maze of laundry baskets and lay her on my unmade bed. As I cuddle close, her heaving chest calms. Her tears dry. Eyes drop and a hand, still so much smaller than my own, reaches out to question. The answer is found as her hand falls on my neck. Her burning body relaxes and her breaths grow long.

I wait for deep sleep to overtake her and then begin to pull away to carry on the day’s tasks. I lean down to kiss her forehead one more time. My eyes fill with tears.

How can I mean so much to one person? She is peaceful now because I’m here. The power of my touch. The comfort of knowing I care.

And if I mean this much to her why am I so distracted by things that don’t matter and things that will wait?

I mean the world to only three. No one else will call me mother. I get one chance with this kind of influence.

Lord, help me to remember this season is short and act accordingly.

Share and Enjoy:
  • email
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • del.icio.us
  • FriendFeed
  • Tumblr
  • Print

20 Comments

Leave a Reply

:)