A Safe Place

His eye is bothering him again. He got something in it at school today and now that it’s approaching bedtime - and everything feels ten times more emotional – it sounds like someone is cutting his arm off. The first couple of times I was able to soothe and comfort him truly from a place of love, but tbh it’s getting kind of old now. I breathe in and out a few times and let my frustration go; once again, I open my arms to hold him close.

I want to be my children’s safe place. I want to be the one that they turn to when they are hurt, troubled or upset. I want them to know that I will always be there for them. That my hugs never run out. I want them to never question my love for them.

Between struggling with depression and the regular daily ups and downs, I wonder if they know this. Am I doing a good enough job showing them this? Am I remembering to have patience? Do I stop in the middle of my task to give them the hug that they are so clearly wanting?

Do they approach me, unsure of what response they will get? Or do they know that no matter what mood I am in, there is always love for them?

I think back to my childhood, and the feeling of safety and comfort that comes with the memories of home. Always knowing that I am loved and known inside of those walls. That the people accepted me as is, and there was always love and forgiveness.

I want to create that same safe haven, in our home and in my heart, for these precious gifts of mine.