He fell.

It was a beautiful 70 degree day in December - the kind of day that's it seems like a crime not to take advantage of an opportunity to soak up some sunshine when the chance presents itself. I told James that after lunch we would go to the park and play for a while before his nap. We enjoyed all of our usual fun: James went down the "dizzy" slide many times, played "estaurant" with the mulch (grilled cheese sandwiches!) on the playground, watched the dogs in the dog park, and pushed his rocket on the path. Before leaving the park, we came across a family having a picnic and throwing hunks of their sandwiches into a little pond to watch the fish come up towards the surface to devour them. James was so amused by this (and who am I kidding, so was I!), and he wanted some pieces of bread to toss to the fish as well. I knew we didn't have any bread but I remembered some saltines stashed in the car that I had kept always by my side during my severe morning sickness in the first trimester of this pregnancy. I thankfully  no longer needed the crackers, and I was pretty sure the fish would accept them just as eagerly as they had the bread.

We came back to the pond with our crackers. I started to break up the crackers and told James several times "do not get any closer to the water." He started to throw in the saltines, and the fish came up quickly to grab them. It was such a sweet moment to watch my ever-growing, curious little boy enjoying such a fun moment in nature. I grabbed my phone to quickly snap a picture and then slid it right back into my pocket. Seconds later James was suddenly a lot closer to the water and before I could tell him to move back he was sliding on slick mud right into the water - first his feet, then his legs, and then his back and chest. He was covered all the way up to his neck with water by the time I pulled him out. It all happened so fast.

James was filthy, soaking wet, and crying hysterically. Between sobs the first thing he articulated was "you...told...me...not...to...get...too...close." Oh, how those words made my heart ache for him - knowing that he was afraid I was upset with him and also immediately aware that this wouldn't be the last time that he might fall in this life. That he may one day make a much bigger mistake at some point down the road when immediately he would again feel the weight of his decision so heavily. So many days are spent teaching him and warning him about the negative effects that come as a result of so many different actions (touching the stove, climbing on furniture, running near the road, etc.), but in that moment I knew he felt fully the cost of his decision to take one step closer toward the pond. I picked up my drenched little toddler and told him "It's okay. You're okay. I've got you. " I carried his muddy little body over to a nearby bench to try and pull the wet, filthy clothes off of him and dry him off. I wrapped my big jacket around him (and my arms, too, hoping to express my unconditional love for him) and carried him back to the car. I didn't care if I got dirty. I didn't care about all the people looking. All I cared about was him in that moment - because he is and always will be mine. My son. And it hurt me to see him hurt. It hurt me to watch him fall.

I called Stephen on the way home and I told him what happened. I told him it was certainly not my finest hour of motherhood, and luckily he usually laughs at me and helps me to not take myself so seriously. He was amused with the story once he knew James was alright. I got James home and got him a bath. All ended well.

But I thought about the events of the day later. Sometimes James would bring the story up about how he fell in the pond and "Mama pulled me out." And it allowed me to reflect on how I've spent a lot of time trying to protect him from any harm these first three years of his life. But as he has gotten older I have learned that sometimes that won't always be possible and that I am just an imperfect person trying to be the best mother I possibly can for him. And that ultimately I must point him to the only Perfect Parent, Jesus Christ. His Heavenly Father is the one that is truly able to save him and to protect him. I can rest in that.

And also I know that while God can protect James from anything, that sometimes He will allow him to fall too. Because His love doesn't force. That's the bittersweet reality of walking with Christ in our imperfect flesh. And while it will hurt me profoundly when that does happen, I can rest in knowing that He is the parent that can put the pieces back together, mend a broken heart, and bring comfort in the darkest hours in ways that I can't.

I'm sure in the years ahead I will instinctively continue to try to protect James from hurt and pain. But I will also strive to surrender my life daily as an offering to the only parent that will never let him down -so that I might reflect Christ in my words and deeds so that James would know Christ intimately and all of His goodness. I will pray that God would protect him from pain and hurt and keep him from sinning. From falling. But when he does fall, I pray that God will embrace James in his loving arms and whisper "It's okay. You're okay. I've got you. It's forgiven."

He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. Psalm 40:2