Mommy Parable: He Follows Me Wherever I Go

He follows us around wherever we go.  

As I take a shower, he sits on the mat and waits for me, staring at me through the water-speckled glass, calling out my name, asking when I'll be done. 

I walk 10 steps to the closet, he follows right behind me. 

I leave the closet to walk 10 steps to my dresser, he follows me to the dresser. 

I walk downstairs realizing I've left something, he follows so closely he could grab my jeans.

I come back up the stairs to fold laundry, he sits at my feet watching.  

I am, all day long, followed by a little duckling, my charming, sweet 4 1/2 year old. 

He will not let me out of his sight.  Ever. 

Something deep within him doesn't want to be separated from me.  Line of sight isn't enough, either.  He must be at my feet, within reaching distance.  He sits under the desk as I type.  

Everything in our culture, our flesh, says separate.  Live independent.  Need no one.  You are on your own.  Rely on you.  Live for you.  Chase your dreams.  Follow your heart. 

But not my beautiful boy.  He delights in being around me, his Mother.  The biggest injury to his heart is to be separated from me, to be left behind, to feel the space ... the gap of intimacy. 

And I think I should be more like him. 

What would it look like if I followed my Father the way the Bean follows me?  

If preferred His presence over any toy.
If I stared at Him, basking in Who He is.
If I took every worry to Him.
If I sprinted toward Him at the start of each day.
If I slept each night in His arms.  
If I danced only for His attention and delight.  


I receive my son. 
I scoop him up, and I feel the Father wrap His huge arms around me too. 
I let him follow me everywhere, thinking of how I want to follow Him everywhere. 
I talk to him through the clear-paned glass, and I hear whispers of a Father inviting me to talk to Him wet and exposed and vulnerable. 
I sit him on the counter to watch me cook, and God invites me to eat of His blessing.
I celebrate him, his funny spirit and belly laugh, and I think of my Father, who is, right this very moment, celebrating me.  

That I may follow as a only a child would.