A couple weeks ago, I experienced a MOM moment- one I will remember forever, probably just because I am a mom. All 3 guys were outside putzin' around, so I decided to take advantage of the time, and hit the road for a run. I came out in my runnin' garb (which Boone always notices), said 'goodbye' and Boone quickly told me that he wanted to go with me. I told him that he couldn't come with, but that he could watch me run up our driveway- which is somewhat lengthy. I made sure to turn about halfway up and wave at them both- just two little still bodies at the edge of the yard, staring after me. I hit the pavement up at the top and set a nice pace (well, who am I kidding, it's all uphill so it wasn't the best pace). About halfway up THAT road (which is 1/4 mile long), I hear the most piercing, wailing scream "MOMMY!" I turned to look and see Boone standing resigned, 3 houses down from me. My heart caught in my throat as I uttered, "Boone!" and I started running back towards him. He instantly dashed forward, tears streaming down his dirty, smeared face as he cried "Mommy, don't go! Mommy! Mommy, don't go!" We met almost in the middle and I knelt down and hugged him tight as he clung to me. He told me, "I's chasin' you but you were runnin' too fast..." I whispered to him that I loved him very much, that he makes me so proud, and that someday he could run with me, but right now Finn needs someone to play with. I took his hand and told him that we could run back home together, and he liked that idea. Back past a few houses we went, turning onto our driveway, and I see Finn crying... about 3/4's of the way up the driveway, coming after us too. Kisses went to everyone, and then Jeff came and scooped 'em both up. As I set out again, I couldn't help but remember this scene from The Patriot:

To me, it was almost exactly the same, and it melted my heart. Boone, the boy. The boy who is all about his daddy. The boy who is all about his daddy. The boy who is all about his daddy. But this time, that little boy wanted me... his mommy. He wanted me bad enough to chase after me at a pace only cheetahs can beat. The boy loves me... I must be doing something right. I still can't decide on the saddest part: where he realized he couldn't catch up and stopped running, only to be discovered when he screamed in surrender; or when we sprinted towards each other in earnest, unable to bear the separation.

My boys always have a special way of teaching me about God. We can chase all we want, but it's only when we resign ourselves and cry out to Him that He answers us. And what does our loving Father do? He runs right to us, scoops us up, dries our tears, holds our hand, and guides us safely back home.



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