There are times when, as a mama, I look at my boys and suddenly I can't breathe. My chest tightens, the air leaves me, and I have to consciously open my lungs and take a breath. I guess you could say they take my breath away. Usually this happens during an otherwise unremarkable event, like while playing in the backyard or finger painting at the kitchen table. I look at the little boy in front of me and am overwhelmed by his goodness. His creativity, his innate joy, his potential.
[He is hiding, not seeking. Can you find him?]