Buckling Into, Not Buckling Under

He sits belted in familiar confinement. 

Spying his worn blue car-seat downstairs earlier, he had heaved and tugged it partway up the stairs, clunking, crashing, and grunting until I helped him. 

“You want your car-seat upstairs?” I asked, surprised. The child seat had been left in the entryway temporarily, in between car shifts. 

“Yes! Tant you, Mom,” he squealed. 

Now, he munches a buttery bagel from deep within his belted blue car-seat, while cartoon ponies sing onscreen.  The buckles and clasps have been shut by him.

A doctor visit, long fever, and two naps later, we have learned that he has mono. I didn’t know that three year olds got mono! Fruit juice popsicles, couch cuddling, and Lego men dances and battles made the afternoon race by. 

A cuckoo clock jumps out the hour, and a blue sippy cup drains out last milk dredges. Robins outside warble continuously and sunshine lies long on the neighbor’s lawn. Summer twilights are leisurely and warm. 

Joining Ann and Michelle, I thank God for: 

Photo Credit

-a sick boy finding comfort in his mama’s arms, and in a blue car-seat that he buckles himself into

-an Abba Lord that I can clamber up on and buckle myself into too

-geese clamoring as they swoop overhead

-dandelion oceans bobbing fuzzy heads

-fresh-brewed coffee in my favorite cup

-God’s word laying open to Daniel

-hopeful news on houses and a chance to wait and trust again

-non-stop bird songs outside

Join me in counting gifts today, friend. Buckle into him and avoid buckling under.