"Christ's ressurection makes him vulnerable. He is vulnerable to our doubt and vulnerable to our fingers forced through wounded skin. He knows we need to be reminded that his love for us extends into our fears and broken places."
Last week Peanut and I were in the Dollar Tree. We had gotten in line when she realized she wanted to get one more thing. I suggested she run and grab it (it was within my sight) while I held our place in line.
She got teary and said she wasn't okay with that.
The elderly grandmother behind me commented it was good that she wouldn't go too far from.
But is it?
At the Botanical Garden this week, a place we've been easily a hundred times in her life, she stopped to look at something and I kept walking.
"Mommy" she screamed in a panic. Even though she could see me.
The thing is before the pandemic and this need to be six feet from everyone else, she was my one kid who was totally comfortable not being near me.
She's my wanderer.
She's the one I've momentarily lost multiple times because it never panicked her if she couldn't see me. She always knew I was nearby.
I realized this week in this need to keep her away from other people, by default I've created a need to be nearer to me.
Home base.
I took her hand in the botanical garden and said to her "If you need to hold my hand, that's okay. It's brave to know what YOU need."
Mama Warriors, we have to be careful not to say "You are fine."
She's not fine. And she knows it.
If I tell her otherwise, I'm teaching her that her gut isn't trustworthy. And that's just not true.
If in this season, during this time, she needs to hold my hand, that's what she needs.
And that's all that matters.
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