Taking a lesson from my toddler May 18, 2011

She surveys the room and seems to observe that its occupants are all moms holding their babies, and she surprises me by climbing into my lap. We’re at a breastfeeding support group – my toddler daughter, my infant daughter, and I – so I can weigh my wee one to ensure she’s reversed the weight loss trend that comes with my low milk supply. I’m resting my seven-pound bundle against my shoulder when my toddler takes note of my folded legs and positions herself on top of them. At 20 months, she is the height of independence and a can-do spirit; she is the farthest thing from a mama’s girl. I can’t think of a time she’s climbed into my lap on the floor, and I’m touched by it. She sits, watching and listening, for the few minutes we’re there, good as gold.

Again yesterday, when her big siblings were participating in a music circle at our preschool co-op, she climbed into my lap as I sat on the floor behind them, baby bouncing on my shoulder. She seemed cosy there and content, watching the bigger kids do their thing with the teacher. Again I relished the moment to house her there on my legs, surprised at her wish to nestle quietly there for a few minutes. Taking a break, it seemed, from the ongoing exploring that is her norm. A touchpoint with mom; a nestled rest; a place to sit and observe.

These moments with my sweet girl bless me. The positioning is awkward – balancing my newborn on my shoulder while I steady my toddler on my legs, making sure she doesn’t knock the baby with her head. But I’m touched that she wants to sit with me – on me, even. I love that she wants to be there – that plunking herself down with me appeals to her. How little I expect her to want that makes it all the more pleasing.

And I think of the Father, sitting with an open lap, and how much He must love it when I stop and rest there — slowing down long enough to be with Him, no good reason, just watching the world go by. Companionship there, just taking comfort from being with Him… the quiet delight He must feel. A good portion of prayer, perhaps, is just quiet communing. “He will take great delight in you; He will quiet you with His love.” (Zephaniah 3:17)