A boy calls for his mother. She has just finished her sentence, part of a whole conversation.
He comes up close and calls her name, "mom?"
"Yes?" She looks at him intently. Her hands are cupped, one in the other. She makes eye contact. And waits.
It takes him 30 seconds, maybe more, to remember what he came in for. 30 seconds (more!) seems to be quite a commodity...a time span not usually kept in the quiet. There are others in the room, waiting for conversation to resume. He doesn't even quite know what he is asking. And yet, she waits.
Something about a kite maybe. A Popsicle. She answers and the moments move on.
For those moments, though, seconds really, love was exchanged. In the eyes, in the waiting, in the listening...significance is found. So much more than a patient mother is seen. The eyes, the posture, they welcome...things like "you are worth waiting to be heard" and "you are not a bother to me".
And don't we all just want to be heard? To find someone that will just be patient with us as we figure it out? To not be pushed or rushed, but simply waited for.
Love is patient and grace is found in patient waiting.