A friend posted a link on Facebook today. I read it through tears. It was poetry. It reminded me of a night earlier this week. Taking my weary body outside at dusk, I had collapsed into a deck chair, just needing to breathe, to rest, to drink in the air. Just because a day is good doesn't mean it can't leave you spent, and I was spent. Only moments later, the deck door opened and two boys came leaping out with big smiles, waving a lantern and a book. They held the two items out to me eagerly, and I groaned. Why now? They really want me to read to them? Reading takes effort. I'm tired. Can't they see that?
Their faces fell.
They slowly pulled the book and lantern back from middair where I had left it unclaimed, unwilling to take it from them.
In a breath, I knew that moment would live as regret.
They had offered me the gift of pleasure in their company, and I had turned it down.
I asked for the book and lantern, but their eagerness was gone.
They didn't want to bother me.
I pleaded for the book.
Slowly they handed it over, not wanting me to read out of guilt, not wanting me to read out of duty.
The moment was slipping away.
I whispered a prayer.
I told my sons I had nearly ruined a perfect moment and asked their forgiveness.
And they forgave.
And God brought grace into the moment and I read.
And I have no regrets.
http://www.aholyexperience.com/2012/09/what-fills-the-space-after-a-goodbye/
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