It hit me this morning.
I was up, for once, five minutes before the kids bounced out of bed. The five minutes of a quiet kitchen and living room to myself was nice.
But what was unexpected, what I absolutely loved, came next.
First it was Daughter. She must’ve heard me puttering, so she decided that even though her alarm clock did not say it was okay to get up, she could anyway. She came and found me, and, before anything else, she wrapped her arms around me. Her head reaches to my armpit now, which still doesn’t feel right. How is she so BIG already? She’s not even a decade old yet! But still, way taller than I feel like she should be or not, first thing out of bed, and she wants to start her day with a hug.
Her brother probably heard us talking, though us girls were very quiet, trying to keep these few sacred “girl time” moments to ourselves. Son came to find us too, sneaking into the kitchen, hoping to cause girly squeals of surprise to erupt from his sister and me.
But really, for him too, his main goal was to start the day with a mama hug.
As much as these kiddos constantly overstimulate me (I had no idea I even COULD be overstimulated before I became a parent), and want to sit on my lap with a tape measure and discover how much space is between my ears, between my eyes, how big my nose is, etc., or constantly want to snuggle, and as much as I might very well need alone time with no one touching me, their hugs will always be precious to me. Very few things make me feel as loved and seen as their hugs.
And being the start to their day will, as long as I am given the honor, always be cherished by me.
I think God feels the same way about me when it comes to mornings and hugs.
I could write more about that connection, but I feel like you probably get it, and for me to write more will just get corny. Shrug. We wouldn’t want to get corny, now would we?
Have a hug-filled day!
In His Chrysalis 