April 29, 2012 by mamacravings
We should have left 10 minutes ago. I leaned in to help.
“I do it.”
“Would you like a little help?”
“Keep me posted.”
His tongue was firmly set in concentration. His dimpled fingers trembled with determination. Eli had decided that he wanted to latch his chest harness in his car seat. I checked the time again. …We should have left 12 minutes ago.
I battled myself, I went from “We’re late. He will have to pick another time to assert his independence.” to “We’re late. What will a few more minutes going to hurt.”
“Little man, Do you want to work together on this one?”
“I do it, Mama.” He never looked up. His little hands never stopped jabbing the pieces of the harness together.
I wondered when the last time was that I pursued something so strongly, even through frustration and a person standing over me counting the minutes. I was mesmerized by his will to just keep plugging along, even though little to no progress had been made.
I crave for Eli to have such a heart of persistence for the rest of his days.
As he learns to ride his bike, as he scrape his knees, let him get back up. Let kisses and charactered Band-Aids be all that slows him down. Allow him the will to push through the fear, uncertainty and the sting of falling.
As he pursues his studies, as he struggles through challenging classes, let him pursue the puzzling concepts until they are mastered. Allow him to push through frustration, sleep deprivation and the notion to blow it off.
As he pursues God, as he goes through situations that don’t make sense and that break his heart, let him pursue Faith with his whole heart. Allow him to cling to God during tough times, praise Him during all times and to thank Him daily.
I glanced down at my persistence warrior and was in awe of him. Sure it’s just a seat belt, but his will was inspiring. I beamed. I quit looking at the clock.
“I did it! Mama, looks at it! I made da puzzles!” He grinned with the satisfaction of sticking through it. Those dimpled hands fist pumped, and his whole body danced.
We high-fived and celebrated.
“Tanks you, Mama.”
I wasn’t sure if that thank you was for the high-five or for letting him work through it. But I gladly received it.
I crave persistence for my son. I crave a will that will never give up. I crave a heart that will fight for what is right, for what is true and for what is worth it.
We were late. But the victory was bigger. I quit looking at the clock. The beam of satisfaction from the back seat was too bright not to enjoy.