My precious Timothy woke up early today. He sat in the living room with me, enjoying our daily act of "watching the morning come" (i.e. being nice and still and quiet while Mommy drinks her coffee and gazes out the window). We were enjoying a rare cool and rainy August morning.
Recently, while playing outside, Timothy has been in the habit of catching butterflies who are attracted to the blooming Abelia bushes. The dear little things are fairly intoxicated by the fragrance and sweet nectar; they become unaware of the lurking danger of a four-year-old's cupped hands. Timothy catches them and brings them to me saying, "Look, Mommy! I caught a butterfly!" He opens his hands and releases it with the utmost gentleness. To see his open palms and the wide smile on his face as he watches them fly away is so beautiful.
Just now, in the midst of our morning snuggle, he went outside to play in the rain. He told me as he was putting on his Crocs, "I'm getting so good at catching butterflies now that I'm going to try to catch baby birds!" and he skipped out into the morning rain in search of an unsuspecting one. I watched him make his way into the front yard when, noticing the rain on his face, he stopped, tilted his head back and opened his mouth. He raised his arms out to the side; that must be the natural position one assumes when drinking in the glory of fresh rain water. Being at such a precious stage where he must share every discovery, he turned and ran back inside to me, eager for me to join him in the rain and "drink from the sky".
And I did.
To just let go and turn my face toward Heaven, engaging in a delightful abandonment of all worries and cares did my heart and soul such good.
May I recommend that to everyone who is schlepping around any sort of load on their shoulders? It is good medicine, prescribed by my four-year-old "physician."