Perspective

Last night I dumped Jack out of his car seat and onto his head.  Don’t ask me how it happened, because I don’t really know.  All I know is that one moment I was holding the car seat and telling Matt that I was going to take my sleeping, bundled baby boy upstairs, and the next minute I was watching in horror as he flipped out onto the floor. 

I worry so much about…stuff.
Bills
What people are thinking of me
Clutter
Things I think I “need”
Status
My list of things to do

But last night, as I sat and rocked my crying son, nothing else mattered.  As I cradled him in my arms, kissing the top of his fuzzy head and whispering to him, “I’m so sorry.  Oh, I’m so, so sorry” over and over, all that mattered was that he was OK.  My house could have burned to ashes around me.  A thief could have walked through my front door, stuffed everything I owned into trash bags, and walked right back out.  I would have gladly given up my degree or  poured out my savings account–all for one breath of reassurance to my overactive imagination that he wasn’t going to die or be brain damaged or grow up to resent me for the permanent knot deforming his otherwise perfect little head. 

As I sat there with my heart all tangled up with sadness and guilt and worry, my priorities untangled themselves.  There is an awful lot of big stuff in this world to worry about.  But there’s a lot of little stuff, too, that’s not worth my energy.

I’ll probably forget this resolve tomorrow, but for today, I’m going to spend some extra time kissing on my little boy, wrapping my arms around my little girl, and listening, really listening, to Matt.  I’m going to pray more and fret less.  Listen more and talk less.  Play more and work less.  Hope more and worry less.  Risk more and fear less.  And love more, more, more.