I read this in short essays by Mary Oliver the other day and it struck me:
"Attention is the beginning of devotion."
This has become my mantra over the past few weeks. I am challenged to discipline the focal point of my attention; wherein lies my attention my devotion will follow. My desire is for my devotion to be for God and my husband, my son, my relationships, and investing in others. It is so easy to be lazy and allow my attention to slip. I want my son to remember my full presence beside him. And I don't want to miss out on these years they say "are so short" even when they feel so long.
On Sunday, Jack and I traded church for a morning date together since Ben was gone camping. We got a coffee and treats in Little Italy then wandered down to the bayfront. The clouds gave a chill to the air and Jack was so sweet running on the boardwalk saying "ships" that I wanted the moment to last forever. Sometimes he is the hardest little guy to please, but slowly I am learning. He delights in the seemingly unnoticeable and I want to be right there delighting with him and in him. I never want to see my child as an interruption to my day; Jack is my day. He has the gentlest heart, kindest little smile (like his Dad), and loves when he makes me proud (which is pretty much doing anything).
I hope I always remember these moments with Jack. They are so dear to me.
"Attention is the beginning of devotion."
This has become my mantra over the past few weeks. I am challenged to discipline the focal point of my attention; wherein lies my attention my devotion will follow. My desire is for my devotion to be for God and my husband, my son, my relationships, and investing in others. It is so easy to be lazy and allow my attention to slip. I want my son to remember my full presence beside him. And I don't want to miss out on these years they say "are so short" even when they feel so long.
On Sunday, Jack and I traded church for a morning date together since Ben was gone camping. We got a coffee and treats in Little Italy then wandered down to the bayfront. The clouds gave a chill to the air and Jack was so sweet running on the boardwalk saying "ships" that I wanted the moment to last forever. Sometimes he is the hardest little guy to please, but slowly I am learning. He delights in the seemingly unnoticeable and I want to be right there delighting with him and in him. I never want to see my child as an interruption to my day; Jack is my day. He has the gentlest heart, kindest little smile (like his Dad), and loves when he makes me proud (which is pretty much doing anything).
I hope I always remember these moments with Jack. They are so dear to me.
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