Bigger Picture Moment: Comfort

As I walked across the promenade shopping center at lunchtime, I heard it. A little boy crying, sitting on his mama's lap on a park bench, her arms wrapped around his little curled up body. An injury must have just occurred, a skinned knee or a stubbed toe, and she had scooped him up the second it happened to console him.

He started with that pause, that moment in time when he isn't crying, blinking or making any sound for that matter. The long, silent inhale broke into the wail that had built up. What initially started as a startling, loud, panicked cry, had softened into a tender baby's cry by the time I walked by...one that was repetitive but not boisterous or frightening. You know the one. The one that says, I am not totally ok yet, but in your arms I am ok. Just give me a few more minutes to carry on in this, for my own relief and solace.

As I walked past this mother and her young son, I felt a sense of comfort. Not from the boy's pain, but from the bonding experience they were enjoying together, and the memories of all of the moments I share with my children in similar situations.

With my son, these moments are fading, as a seven year old cries more regularly about video games being shut off or chores feeling too overwhelming on a Saturday morning when he would rather ride his bike. But the bonding moments have not disappeared, thankfully, as he still falls from that bike or feels left out when he wasn't invited to a schoolmate's party, and needs his mama close.

With my daughter, these tender moments occur almost daily, since almost anything can trigger a broken heart to someone who is three. Losing a headband, bumping an elbow, missing Grandma who we haven't seen in a week, spilling rocks in the driveway, or seeing a balloon deflated the next morning. She begs me to scoop her up often.

I saw comfort in that little boy on the park bench, because he reminded me of the bond I have with my kids. The ability I have to comfort them when they need it, and their trust in coming to me when they hurt.

I hurry so fast to fix their pain. 

I am their mama. 

Whoa, how lucky that makes me feel. 


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We're seeing the Bigger Picture through simple moments -- moments that force us to stop and take notice of the ways our worlds are important, meaningful, and beautiful. Please join us today! Grab the button, link up and then go forth and encourage the two people before you while they are walking this journey of intentional living.