Base

My children were playing tag inside last week while I made tea.
I poured myself a cup and sat down to watch their antics.
I know better than this.
But for some odd reason I forgot that I am base.
So the minute I sat down I saw Rowan and Rose flying toward me with Grant in close pursuit.
Their mouths were open and yelling, "Mommy's base! Mommy's safety!"
I lifted my teacup up high right before they pounced onto my lap. Tea trickled lightly like an anointing over us.
I laughed and screamed at the same time.
They kissed me and were off up the back staircase.
Now, the reason I did not yell at them, is not because I am naturally angelic. I am not.
I didn't yell at them, because I want to be base.
This wasn't the first time I been flown at, climbed up, engulfed. It's happened many times. While I'm on the phone, in the bathtub, in bed, talking to a friend, etc.
For as long as I can remember, when they play tag, if I'm in the vicinity, I'm base.
The amount of things I've spilled on myself being base, is legion. The times I've held a conversation while being shimmied up by little bodies, is many.
But I'm okay with that. Because I believe that what we teach our children, even in play, is transferable.
So they learn that I'm safety. That nothing can get them when they are in my arms. There is a haven to fly to when they are pursued.
They grow up. They learn that God is base. They don't fit on Mommy's lap anymore, but they will never out grow God's. Nothing can get them when they are in His arms, nothing that He doesn't allow. They understand that there is always a haven to fly to when they are pursued.
Even better, they will never catch Him in the bath or with a cup of hot tea.
I got up as they raced off and disposed of my tea cup,
because I knew they would be back,
and they will always need a base.