Caleb found a mud puddle
And stepped in, up to his ankles.
I washed the mud out of his shoes,
But they were still damp a day later.
Clad in hipster orange and blue,
My barefoot son
Wandered through the sermon,
Entertained himself with empty coffee cup,
Folded bulletin, and puzzle ring,
Four brothers silently vying for his
Attention.
I am not sure how to feel about this
Gentle perpetual motion from mother to brother.
Enforce complete stillness?
Entertain embarrassment over my poor training?
Embrace the silence with thanksgiving?
For today, I choose the last,
And trust those sitting near
Heard what they needed,
Barefoot distraction notwithstanding.
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