Love is an Open Door

I dropped my four-year-old off at preschool this morning. Last year, I walked her to the door, trying to calm her fears and stop the tears before she went in to join the rest of her class. This year, I walk her to the edge of the driveway, sneak in a side hug and a kiss before she runs off to join her teacher. As I drive down the lane, I watch her gracefully and confidently walk through the open classroom door, not holding anyone's hand, head held high as she passes the dogs, and I think, she is growing up, and she is teaching me so much.

Minutes before we headed out the door today, she came to me complaining that her tummy hurt. This is a common occurrence and I've yet to pinpoint the cause. She told me she wasn't nervous or hungry, but I could tell she was worried about it, so I suggested we say a prayer before we left. We knelt on the hard, cold floor and folded our arms. Little brother joined us with his bowl of popcorn leftover from last night. After he had snuck a few pieces in his mouth, I said a prayer and we asked Heavenly Father to help Kevin's tummy stop hurting so she could have a good day at school. Then we rushed to put on jackets and shoes and get out the door. A few steps into the garage, she paused and turned around, a big smile on her face. "Mom! My tummy doesn't hurt anymore! Isn't that lucky!"

I explained that it wasn't luck, it was Heavenly Father answering our prayer.

And later, that feeling that flooded my heart as I watched her walk happily into school, Heavenly Father answered my prayer.

I often have to pray for charity for this child. She pushes my buttons, tests my patience, and makes life hard. I don't want to be so frustrated with her--so I ask God to help me see her the way he does. And the answers come in the little moments, where I pause and look at her--really look at her, and take time to be grateful for the sparkly spirit that she is.

A year or so ago, she won the battle of having her door open at bedtime. Her parents would prefer it closed, as she is a light sleeper and her brother can be very loud, but eventually we learned it was easier to leave her door open and the hall light on than battle her demons every night.

I find myself being grateful for that lost battle almost nightly, as I have the chance to peek in and watch her sleep for a few seconds before I end my day too. Sometimes she is still awake and flashes me a smile and the love sign. Sometimes she has already kicked off her blankets and I have to tiptoe around the floor creaks to tuck her back in. Sometimes her limbs are spread like a star, blankets already starting to fall of the bed.

Two nights ago, I found her fast asleep, her hand holding open the book of fairy tales I read to her before bed. My heart melted a little bit, and I made a wish for her dreams to take her on adventures like those found in her open book.