Seeing You

Every day after lunchtime, with full tummies and droopy eyelids, I send my 4 younger children off to their beds for an afternoon nap. And every day, they complain until their complainers get sore then they succumb to an hour and a half of sleepy refreshment. Yesterday, Astrid was having an especially difficult time coming to terms with the reality of naptime. She cried, she moaned, she yelled, "Hoe me peas Momma", over and over again. In an effort to fast forward to the actual sleeping part of naptime, I gave in and Ezra and I snuggled up beside her. Astrid loves to snuggle, and for her it's not enough to just lay down together, or even to be held. She wants to be wrapped up in your arms, nose to nose, forehead to forehead, breathing the same air, inhaling and exhaling in unison. We lay there that way together until her tears were dry and her cries turned into intermittent sniffles. After a few minutes she relaxed, reassured that I would not leave until I had seen her safely off to dreamland. Ezra was restless, though, and I decided to nurse him on the opposite side, which meant releasing my hold on Astrid and turning my back to her. Immediately, she became frantic, sitting upright, and pulling my shoulder in an effort to turn me back to face her. "Momma, Momma! I can't see you! Turn ober Momma, I can't see you! I needa see you, Momma!"
"It's ok, baby", I reassured her, "You can still see me, just a different side of me."
She sat there for a few seconds, whimpering, then took my arm, pulled it behind me, and wrapped it around herself the best that she could.
"Ok, Momma", she said softly, "Just hoe me peas....."

As she drifted off to sleep, I thought about the things my baby girl needs. To be held, breathed on, to see me and, when she can't, to be reassured that I am still there, with my arms around her. And I do all of those things for her, because I love her. How much more does our Father love us and do these for us? My love for her, though enormous, is finite and imperfect. His is infinite, flawless, unconditional. There are times when we feel so alone. We can't see Him and we cry out in desperation, fear, anger, or panic. But He's there...holding, breathing on us and into us, and wrapping His arms around us. Do you feel it? Have you felt it? I have. I have known what it's like, in recent years, to frantically search for that security. And I've found it. When I calm my screaming to a whimper long enough to say..."Hold me...please."