More Than A Cup Of Yogurt

The dishes kept piling in the sink, food remnants from a messy lunch scattered the floor, and my focus was solely fixed on cleaning the stink and stick from all the surfaces. The hunger pangs in my stomach chimed in, reminding me I forgot to feed myself (in true mother form) so I quickly grabbed a yogurt to scarf down. Luke contently played on the floor, so I figured it was as good a time as any to take a break from the daily grind and enjoy that oh-so-glorious looking yogurt. I popped the seal, mixed the fruit and basked in the tart flavor, relishing this teensy moment to myself. 

Splat, thunk, splat, thunk.

The sound of Luke's crawling inched toward me and soon I had two little hands pulling at my legs. I frustratedly sighed that my moment was over and crouched down to his level, yogurt still in hand. 

Then the sweetest thing happened -- the kind of thing that pulls at your heart strings and gives you a cosmic rush of emotion that seems to shift and clearly align your perspective on the whole point of motherhood, or life really.

Instead of crying and immediately grabbing at my food, Luke gently stood there, one tiny hand on my knee relying on me for support, distinctly waiting for me to share. Suddenly in that moment, I realized this brief flash in time was more than just a mama feeding her baby a measly old cup of yogurt. My heart swelled and my emotion nearly burst out of my chest in that symbiotic instant. Luke locked eyes with me and gazed intentionally into my soul. He knew my frustrations and needed me to recognize his, but more than anything he communicated his love and dependence on me. The trust he innately exuded was raw and practically tangible. He demonstrated his complete and total reliance for me to create balance in his life as he held on to my leg while learning to stand on his own. With a ring of creamy yogurt covering his little mouth, he showed me that I am his nurturer and caregiver, the one to ensure his belly is full, as well as his mind and heart. 

And you know what? I sat there staring back at this baby that seemed to understand the world better than I, and I cried. Soft, warm tears overflowing with love and appreciation for Luke, for reminding me I matter, and for the tender moment of connection between a mother and son.

My cup runneth over.