Blueberry Yogurt Smiles

As I was finishing up my breakfast and strategically wrapping the last of the almond butter around my lime blemished apple slice, I looked up to notice the sweetest image sitting next to me. His tongue began to reach to the furthest corners of the earth, I mean his mouth, as if he were scraping the bottom of a bowl that had just been emptied of the last of the cake batter. Completely  unaware of my fixed gaze he made it his mission to tidy his cheeks in a military fashion. He, is my five year old. He is the youngest of my children and sadly the end of our chapter in Kelley babies.

His blueberry yogurt stained face, with children past, would have made me cringe or even, embarrassingly enough, annoyed me and tragically sent me into a tail spin. That face would have been one more mess for me to clean, one more chore to add to my already chore filled life but this morning I breathed something different. It was a breath of "I know what you are." You are the last. You are the last blueberry stained face that I now desire to wipe. You are the last of the crumb droppers and sleeve smudgers. I found myself smiling instead of cringing and wholeheartedly regretting that there would not be another to come after him.

 

I shared permission with the sun to soak in his indigo stained face and found myself grateful for all the other violet faces that had come before him. I also found peace when I looked down and saw that our kitchen table had become the latest casualty, littered with my son's Van Gogh like art work. Starry Night's got nothing on the wrath of a five year old's finger print blueberry yogurt masterpiece.

This bone chilling February morning, 12 years after I first became a mother, I took my time to retrieve the napkin and savored the moment. I let my eyes light up as his eyes always do and instead of seeing the blue inconvenience of a soul I glimpsed the blue love of God and His gift to my soul. Blueberry yogurt smiles will always be welcomed here.

Ringrazio Dio ~ Thanks be to God.