Angels

Yesterday.
It wasn't such a good day.

My sweet Reilly-girl, who had been ailing for the past several days took a turn for the worse.
A high fever, chills, and a side and tummy ache.  She looked as pale as death: her skin almost translucent, dark purple circles around her eyes, emphasizing the contrast.  Listless and lethargic, she only wanted to crawl under her blanket and cry.

A trip to the doctor's office did not provide many answers-- other than what her condition wasn't.

It wasn't strep.
It wasn't the flu.
It wasn't appendicitis.

Genuinely concerned, the doctor told me that it was most likely a simple virus, but if she wasn't feeling better within 36-48 hours that I should call him immediately.

Not feeling super great myself, I girded up my loins for a long afternoon.  The kind where a mama's needs definitely take a backseat for her little ones.  It's always in those moments that providential strength comes to lift and comfort, even if it doesn't always make things easier physically and emotionally.

By the time evening came, it found me sitting on our ottoman, head in my hands.
I was just absolutely exhausted in every way imaginable.

It was at that moment that there was a little tap on my arm.
I moved my hands from my eyes to see my little Logan grinning back at me.

"Hi," came his sunny greeting. 

His enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn't help but laugh as I picked him up and held him to face me eye-to-eye.

He looked at me, and making certain I was keeping eye contact with him, he placed one small hand on each side of my face.  Cupping my face in his hands he smiled warmly at me and made a single emphatic pronouncement.

"Mama."

He then tapped my cheeks with his palms, as if to reaffirm the message.
It came through loud and clear.

"Mama."

I am so grateful for the angels-- seen and unseen-- that get me through the difficult moments in life.

Especially little 20-month-old ones.