He begins beating on the front door after breakfast. “Side, side!” he cries. He would rather be outdoors no matter how low the temperatures drop overnight. He doesn’t care that the beds haven’t been made or that the morning dishes still linger in the sink. I run my hand through his blonde curls and keep moving; there is coffee to drink and lessons to teach. There is no time for a walk in the woods.   

But he’s relentless, as almost two-year olds are. So I reach for my brown hand-me-down sweater and open the front door to the morning sun. Its rays are warm even in the cool of winter. I walk behind, letting him lead.

The birds fly overhead and he is instantly captivated. Maybe it’s the way their wings glide or how they sail effortlessly as we watch. With each chirp from above, he grabs my arm. He bounces up and down and his chubby fingers point to the delicate finch resting on a nearby branch. “Me! Mine!” he says. He looks to me and points to himself. 

And he wants the bird for his own.

And I understand this need to want what feels out of reach. To capture just a piece of God’s design and will for our lives, to touch and feel it and try to understand the mystery of it all.

“Mommy can’t catch the bird,” I gently tell him.  

And he seems to understand. Instead we look ahead and venture deeper into the woods.  We run our hands down the rough bark of age-old trees and pick up lone sticks to throw them back down again.

And we walk and stop and start once more. And God gently reminds me that there will always be things out of reach; there is a place where dreams are planted. But in the moment of the morning I pass it, not wanting to miss the beauty of this day. 

Finding Heaven


13 thoughts on “dreams

  1. Maybe, it’s because my “baby” is 18 and graduating from high school in 3 months. Or maybe it’s Luke’s baseball shirt that reminded me that I will miss seeing Ethan pitch in his first start tomorrow. Could be that I, too, understand what it feels like to want things that seem out of reach. Whatever it was, I just cried and cried when I read this. Thanks for the glimpse into a beautiful moment.

  2. Amanda,

    “there is a place where dreams are planted.”

    Wow, you have a way with words. so, so beautiful. I have a toddler and an infant and I could picture this moment. I too have felt this longing for that which is out of reach. Perhaps this longing will never quite rest until we meet Jesus. We were made for more, weren’t we?

    Simply stunning prose.

  3. Visiting from Soli Deo Gloria, and I love this. So familiar as I have two blond/blue-eyed boys, 4 and 2. Your little man is precious. Wonderful lessons you learned on your walk. Thanks for sharing them.

  4. Hi Amanda and welcome to Soli Deo Gloria. I am so glad that you linked up today. What a precious time with your son and with your Father. It continually amazes me that when I let Him lead (sometimes through the wants and desires of my children), I am so filled. Even when it means my agenda for the day will not come to fruition.

    I hope you continue to link up your sweet words. If you would like to be on the SDG email list, please leave a comment on my blog post today or email me at jenfergie2000@me.com

  5. What beautiful words and a great challenge for me, to accept those things that I can’t reach and enjoy the beauty in every day.

    Your little boy is precious–what beautiful locks!

  6. I love how open your heart was in spite of duties at home. It’s those stopable moments that the right choice opens the door for God to teach and bless. And in turn, you were able to bring a blessing to me though your beautiful prose. May you and that beautiful child have a blessed day.

  7. This is beautiful. I soooo relate. And I savor those sweet walks with their delight in the birds and the trees and the air. Those times slip through our fingers like sand. It is so good that you let him lead. …love & grace, jodi

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