Saturday Mornings

Saturday mornings are maybe one of my favorite pockets of time each week. There is something sacred about the space between sunrise and lunchtime. As a child, Saturday mornings included a fresh batch of the best homemade waffles by my Mom. We gathered around the table together as a family, bed head and all. After we stuffed ourselves, Dad and I loaded up in the truck headed to his workshop or the ball fields. Either way I was excited because it was our time together. As an adult, Dad shared the meaning behind big Saturday morning family breakfast. When he was a child, his Dad traveled for work during the week which only had him home on the weekend. Therefore, my Dad counted down to Saturday mornings when his Dad was home for them to spend time together.

On the Saturday mornings where I find myself running errands, the one thing that stops me in my tracks and brings nostalgia is a Dad and his kid together. The pure joy on a Dad’s face sitting across from his daughter at the table of a coffee shop coloring the same Disney page makes my eyes misty. The daughter beams with a big toothless smile up at Dad who delights to watch his daughter doing something she loves. Adoration fills the face of Dad as he looks back at his daughter. Oh, if only I believed the truth that this is how God looks at me with absolute delight when I do the things I love.

Another sighting to catch my attention before I put my car into reverse in the parking lot is a Dad as he carries his son into the donut shop decked out in spiderman pajamas. My eyes notice the little toddler arms wrapped around Dad’s neck. The picture encourages me to pray to hold fast to God in the midst of all the chaos around me because He is the real hero of this story.

After errands, I pull into the park to stretch my legs and bird watch. I do not understand why the robins do not come to my house a mile away, so I come to them. On the path, my route passes by the playground area filled with families of all ages. Parents with wobbly toddlers are in arm’s reach every step of the way with their coffee in hand. Parents pulled back from the stairs, slide, and rock wall cheer on their older kids with newfound independence. They remain close by for encouragement or rescue. One duo grabs my attention. Dad with his daughter on the cusp of independence. She is small, but fierce. She is determined, but still has limits. As an almost five-year-old, the daughter looks up and tells Dad she wants to go down the big slide by herself, but also tells Dad to make sure he comes down right after her. The independence does not dissolve the desire for the daughter to have Dad nearby. I pick up how much a strong presence of Dad frees the daughter to explore, be brave, and fall down at times because Dad is there to help her back up and try again.

The last stretch of my walk to the car I ponder these nuggets of life collected on the path. Jesus, thank you for Your nearness. I take it for granted. You always show up. You cheer me on to try again. You are patient when fierce determination lights up my face. I still have limits, but You give me space to stretch them. You delight in the woman I am right now, today. You are gracious and steadfast to pursue relationship with me. Your love draws out the good things you see inside of me. One of the sweet spots for us are Saturday mornings before the stirring of errands and activities. I count down to it every week because there is no place I’d rather be.