Swimming, I pray. No distractions. No interruptions. No excuses. The pool is my oasis in an otherwise deadline-filled day.
It’s fitting, I think, as I push the water to and fro. Wrestling to stay afloat gives ‘way to wrestling with the Creator.
Bills. Marriage. Church. Parents. Children.
All is reduced to a humble acknowledgement and stifling recognition of my own great need.
Emerging, I am as full as the pool I just left behind me. My Lord is present.
The day wears on. Errands and instruction busy my thoughts. Arithmetic, spelling, reading, penmanship,…hunger.
At the grocery store I send Mia to fetch Daddy’s coffee beans. Returning with the wrong flavor, I follow her back.
“They don’t have any yellow today, Mom. They must be out.”
“They’re up high, Mia. Just because you don’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
Finally, the day comes to a close. In bed I lie with Maylee – just this once. Soundly, she sleeps next to me. Tomorrow she’ll be four. I muse over her accomplishment. I reminisce her surprising personality. A happy sadness overwhelms me as I struggle to remind myself that she still clings to her blanket each day and sucks her thumb each night.
Oh, if I could just hold on to these fleeting moments – somehow make them last. Again, I pray. “Lord, save them. Keep them.”
I bet he likes to swim with me, I think. I bet it’s just like when my children swim with me. I bet he likes to send me for small favors and remind me to look up when I assume he’s asking too much. Yes, I’m quite sure my Lord loves to hold me as I rest. I reckon he watches every movement closely musing over my childish quirks and silly security props. Interceding, I know he prays I’ll never stop needing him as much as I do right now.
I hear you, Daddy. Can you tell me our story about that cross one more time tonight?