Every little twig Liam brings me from the yard... every pebble he drops in my hand, I want to keep it all forever. I guess I just want to keep a part of him forever. Him at every stage. I understand now what those sweet moms were possibly grasping for: for time to stand still. They wanted to savor a little piece of their children at each age, and the closest they could get was to save something that their little hands and minds created.
Liam is undoubtedly my greatest masterpiece. And whatever comes from him - even very abstract, drippy watercolors - is just so beautiful to me. Perhaps that's why grandparents are so enthralled with their grandchildren. What causes their children joy brings them so much joy, and I can't help but think God must feel the same way when He sees us doing what we were created to do.
When I pulled out the watercolors today, I had low expectations. Liam's attention span at 17 months old is about 20 seconds long, so I was shocked when I looked up at the clock and we'd spent half an hour with the paints. Granted, some of that time was spent sucking the paint off the end of the brush. But still. I will always look at these paintings and remember the intense look on his face as he pushed the brush across the paper, and how it softened into the purest smile when he knew I was proud.
When we finished, my first thought stunned me a little: "I have to frame these. I have to."
Oh Liam, what have you done to your mama's heart and her walls? It's clear you've left your indelible mark on both.