The little boy was an incredibly cute chunk of a guy, toddling along beside his mom, chattering away, oblivious to everything, walking to his personal drummer. Mom had to pull him gently toward the car, then stand to block him from walking off to who knows where while she opened the door. She had to set her coffee on the ground and put her purse on the car floor, then pick him up -- he continued to babble away --, twist her body into the car in order to get him situated in his car seat, then retrieve her coffee, get herself in the car and they were off.
I was struck by the sweetness of it. The baby completely oblivious but so incredibly cherished. The mother so matter-of-factly performing this act of love. I thought of Luke & Des performing that same act over and over every day, of Patti and Charlie doing the same, and parents or caretakers everywhere.
I can't say it occurred to me until now but I guess I could compare this to God's love for us. We're toddling around, often oblivious, ready to head off in the wrong direction, and God is walking beside us, guiding and directing our steps. Thank God for his love.
But while I was sitting there watching it, I just felt the sweetness of it, and if I'd have let myself, I'd have cried. Silly me.