Walking out of the church together, I breathed in her daughter’s pink and purple adorned cuteness as she pushed the stroller toward her car.
“How old is she?” I asked.
“She’s 9 months,” the mom smiled. “I have an 18 year old and 13 year old son too.” Leaning over, she pulled her daughter’s blanket down to reveal the most delicious rosy cheeks.
I pulled my mouth up from the ground. This woman, with her thick wavy dark hair and creamy skin looked too young to have a college aged kid. Bless.her.heart.
Out of nowhere she grabbed my arm and gushed her heart out. Gosh, I love these type of women. The ones who fast-track surface and go straight to soul. My kinda people, this mama.
“Thank you for what you said,” she nodded back inside where I’d just wrapped up sharing about #realisthenewperfect (you can listen to it at the bottom of this page). She was referring to my confession of being momentarily possessed in attempts to achieve a fabulous family photo. I’d failed miserably. And hurt my family in the process.
She shared her own #realisthenewperfect story. Recently, she took her 13-year old son on a date to the movies. On the way back, he accidentally spilled his drink in the car. “I lost it,” the mom confessed. “I yelled and screamed and totally went crazy.” I could tell from her eyes she was re-living the incident every parent is guilty of. “And then” she smiles, “I scooped up my 13 year old son and I held him.” Tears trailed as she spoke. I gripped her arm in return.
“I told him I was sorry I’m always so distracted. I apologized for always being on my phone and forgetting to see him.”
At this point we are both crying and arm hugging, our steps stilled.
With her oldest already out of the house, she went on. “I don’t want to waste the rest of the time I have with my other son living on my phone, caring too much about social media and the rest of the world.” She smiled at her daughter. I could read her mind. This was her world. Her daughter. Her sons. The invitation to live life today.
“I’m going to make some changes when I get home. I want to be more present.” We wiped our eyes, hugged, and I thanked her for her vulnerable words.
“You are amazingly brave,” I confessed.
“It’s never too late to change habits,” she said.
As we parted ways, I looked back to see her bending over her daughter and smooching those rosy cheeks.
Listen to the #realisthenewperfect talk here: