Big words. Big thoughts. Big questions.
They swirl and appear in brief moments of clarity, like the pensieve from Dumbledore's office, but mostly it is a mist of thinking. Sometimes they swirl fast with a franticness that demands my attention, sometimes they churn and bubble slowling drawing me to reflect and ponder. Sometimes thoughts are thought in places of anxiousness, sometimes from places of determination, but after two weeks the words remain swirling.
The words are good to think about. The processing is part of they necessary way that I operate. I know that. I have to process and think and make those connections to move forward. But it is exhausting.
But each day I come home to a smile and a hug and a "mama" and for a moment the words are small. Grace, Love, Hope, Openness are real in his tiny hands building the perfect megablock tower, petting the cat, stealing mama's sweater. His hands and heart hug the worry and wondering out of me and leave in its place... wonder.
Not the word but the living, the experience and mystery of a child of God giving and recieving love as the easiest, simplest, most joyful thing in the world.
Tiny hands. Tiny hugs. Bringing big words from out of my head and into my being, into my living.
Parents hope we teach our children what they need to know to live, thrive and love in the world.
But in reality they are often the ones doing the teaching, giving us the gifts of life and love in ways we've never expected.
Tiny hands are large enough to hold the biggest words and your heart at the same time.