A Hallmark Moment

We have some neighbors who live across the "field" from us. Their little girl comes over frequently to play with Cambel. Usually he is too afraid to make the trek across the small grassy area to her house by himself, but today when her  mom called and invited Cambel over, he jumped at the chance. He found his shoes and I helped him get warmer clothes on, and then I stood on our front porch and watched him run across the field to his friend's.

In typical mother fashion, I called to him to be kind and to share, and in typical Cambel fashion, he ran all the way back because he couldn't hear me. After the message was re-communicated, he took off again and I couldn't help but get a bit sentimental.

 

He isn't so little anymore. He can do more and more things on his own. Running across a field to play with a friend may not seem like that big of a deal, but this moment took on a sort of symbolism for all of  his growing independence. And I love this,  but seeing my firstborn mature is  bittersweet, and letting go at the right time is sometimes hard.

So as I watched my little boy (when did he start running like a boy and not like a toddler?), I prayed for him, that God will keep him and protect him as he goes into a world where I can't always protect him, where I can't always control what he will see and hear and what experiences he will have. I prayed that God would go with him where I can't. 

And then, in the midst of this symbolic moment as I watched my not so little firstborn take a step towards independence,  Cambel saw the neighbor's dog. 

He is terrified of dogs. Large dogs in particular.  And this dog is huge. 

He turned around and ran back towards me. I tried motioning and calling to him to tell him that his friend was outside and they were putting the dog in the garage, that he would be okay. But he couldn't hear me. Because he was calling to me too.  

"Mommy, I need you!"

(this is like a Hallmark commercial)

In spite of all this growth and independence, he still needs to know that he is safe, that I am watching out for him, that when things get scary he can run back and get the reassurance that he needs. And maybe this need is one thing that won't change. Maybe it will just look different.

 

Once the dog was out of sight and Lily was in his sight, (and had he told me of his plan to inform his friend that she needed to share and be kind...I guess he didn't hear me so well after all), he was off again. And this time he made it without even looking back.

I know someday dogs won't scare him so much and running across a field to play with a friend won't be such a big deal. Someday he will be off to school on his own and making friends and having experiences that I won't be an immediate participant in. And in these times where I have to let go and watch him run on his own, I hope that even though he may not come running back, or call out to me that he needs me, he will know that I am watching and available and praying. And more importantly, that when he can't see me or his dad, he will know the presence of the One who sees and knows him.