Work brings on rare tender moments. In the midst of paperwork shuffling, computers failing, and task-focused concentration, a soft moment captured my heart.
I walked past a woman and her son. They were known to me. She recently lost her husband and him, his dad. As they stood talking to our pastor, her eyes became glassy. Her hands trembled like a fragile green leaf in a soft breeze.
Her son touched her shoulder.
It made me pause in my hurry. My heart slowed from its frantic 9-5 beat. I wanted to capture that somehow in a bottle. When was the last time I felt that tender touch from a relative?
I will never have children and know that tenderness; and my family is, well, as you’ve read, distant and dysfunctional. They don’t believe in my God.
Granted, I’m okay with no children. It was God’s will.
Instead, I frame that moment in my heart to keep forever.
There are good families out there who love each other no matter how imperfectly, and when they need each other, agendas are put aside because they love so deeply.
I came home and worked on loving my husband better.