My family was 45 minutes early for my doctor’s appointment. It was a little over five in the afternoon.
We walked around the mall where the optometrist’s office was located to kill some time. On our way down to the ground floor, my youngest saw the slow-moving train packed with giggly kids stationed between the elevator and the escalators.
“Train ride Mom, please.” I pointed my finger toward my husband indicating he had the final say on the matter.
“Train ride Dad, please.” My husband told him to wait as he headed to the train booth for tickets.
The train ride would eat a measly 10 minutes of our time. We planned to walk around first and let him ride the train with his brother 15 minutes before my appointment.
We were crisscrossing the city for the last nine hours, and Theo has been very patient. From getting ourselves ready at six in the morning to beating my therapy appointment before four in the afternoon, our little boy was unruffled. He would play some games in my phone, read every word he would see along the road, hum a Christmas song and ask questions once in a while. The hustle and bustle of the day failed to bore, frustrate, or tire him. My husband and I agreed to grant him his wish.
Robert went inside the cordoned area and buckled up the boys. Our boys occupied one of the train’s multiple units.
We were instructed by the attendant to wait by the exit area where we found an unoccupied bench. We sat next to each other and waited for the little train to pass by.
Like those other parents waiting for their kids, we waved our hands on the approaching train.
“Look Theo, there’s Mom and Dad!” It was our eldest pointing his finger toward us. They both waved their hands.
The train sped past where we were seated.
From a distance, I saw my youngest flapping his hands while swaying his head left to right humming, most probably, Jingle Bells – it’s the only Christmas song he kept on singing over and over.
Theo rarely flaps. And the first time I saw him did that, I despaired. It was a moment of defeat for me. His flapping forced me to face reality and take off the mask of denial. But it’s also his flapping that allowed my husband and I to reflect, move forward and find joy in uncertainty.
“I realized Theo would only flap when he is very excited and overjoyed.” It was my husband. Our eyes were both fixed on the moving train.
Robert was right – there was a sparkle in our son’s eyes. Those eyes could not hide the bliss brought about by the train ride.
That day, I was ecstatic as well. My son’s flapping did not shake my world or put me in a coma of shame. I just knew what it meant – my boy was overjoyed. And at that moment, that was all that mattered to me.
And God, in his mercy, reminded me that his blessing is not always wrapped in glitters, it could be swathed in a little boy’s two hands, which love to flap when engulfed with joy. Merry Christmas!
“Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices;
My flesh also will rest in hope.” –Psalm 16:9 NKJV
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Photo Credit: Pearlridge
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