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Praying Woman

He Ran to Me

He Ran to Me

by Hannah Bollinger

This post originally appeared in the Woven Beautiful blog.

The morning sun inspired us to go for a stroll around the neighborhood. Little boy put on his airplane helmet, got on his bike, and off we ventured. I traveled by foot, enjoying the fresh air. He pedaled fast, other times slow, coming to a halt on occasion to chat or admire a treasure.

Those flags on mailboxes that lift up and down are fascinating to a four-year-old. So are big tires on trucks, airplanes soaring overhead, and puddles of water. Children receive the simple things as gifts, like how a cardboard box becomes a toy car and bubble wrap becomes the evening’s entertainment.

My little boy is especially eager to understand the world around him. He sponges up information, retaining it in his fearfully and wonderfully made mind.

I simply stand in awe.

Near the end of our adventure was a downhill stretch. He made it to the end of the sidewalk before me, knowing to wait for me before crossing the street. So he parked his little bike safe and secure right at the end of the sidewalk—and then he did something he doesn’t normally do on a bike ride.

He turned around and ran to me.

His sweet face infused with joy as he got closer and closer. Within seconds, he wrapped his arms around me because I was his destination.

It was a pure gift of love.

I spend my days training up, cleaning messes, planning activities, going on adventures, sorting through piles of laundry…wondering at times if I’m doing this motherhood thing right. But then my little boy comes running to me just because he wants to be in my presence, and it’s like honey to my soul because nothing really compares to being loved back by your very own child.

My body was once his home and I’ve witnessed every milestone of his development. I’ve laughed, cried, cuddled, and danced with him. When the days are exhausting, I love him. When the days are bright, I love him. When I find myself on a concrete sidewalk in a mama-son embrace, I love him and feel the Father wrapping us both in love.

We made our way down the hill, retrieved [his] bike, looked both ways and crossed the street together, collected mail from our mailbox with a red flag, and headed home.

And I couldn’t help but think of how much it must warm the Father’s heart when we run to Him, simply because we want to be in His presence.

Simply because we love Him back.


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