Fists clenched, he lays stiffly on the ground. His little body refusing to release any tension he feels. His head pounds the carpet while he wails and I wonder if this toddler of mine will ever learn that banging his head on objects never ends well. I watch as his sibling - the initiator of this tantrum - tries to appease him. The toddler screams "NO!" and moves further away. I call him to me. "Gideon, come see Mama." Again he screams "NO!"
Still, I know what he needs IS his mama. It's late. He's tired. He just needs to be held and assured that it's all OK.
I walk over to him and he jerks away. I wait. He screams. Kicks. Flails. Finally he glances my way. He is ready to be helped. I happily oblige and hug him close. "It's OK, buddy. I've got you. I love you, sweet boy. You can calm down. Everything is OK." And with that, his fists loosen, his crying ceases and he snuggles in...resting in the arms of the one who loves him.
Yesterday morning - at an hour way too early to be awake - I woke up with this on my mind:
I tried to let the words sink in. "How do I get there, God? How can I really feel like I am on that rock that is higher than I? How can I be in the shelter of your wings?" Later that morning, a dear friend shared that she was struggling with worry and anxiety, so I shared the verses. They encouraged her and I thought maybe that passage was just meant for me to remember so that I could share with her. Maybe I was just the messenger. Still, those scriptures and questions lingered in my mind throughout the day.
As I watched my toddler and his tantrum that night, it all made sense and my questions were answered. Much like my little guy couldn't seem to make his way to me when that's what he really needed, I tend to do the same with God. Life gets tough and I pray, but I don't always dwell in His presence. I am not good at the "being still, and knowing." I don't allow Him to soothe me. I fight it because I'm angry or tired or succumbing to 53 different emotions all at once.
And in this Psalm, David is where I am at times. Overwhelmed. Crying out to God. Wanting help, but not knowing how to receive it. So what does he do? David asks to be led.
I'm quick to cry out, but not always good at allowing God to lead me into His presence. He waits with arms ready, longing to comfort, but I must first stop jerking away. I have to release my control and let Him draw me in to Him. And when He does, just like David, I am able to recognize His strength. I am able to dwell in His arms and trust in the shelter of His wings. It starts first with a cry and then a willingness to allow Him to truly work, but when I do that, the weight of this world is no longer mine, but His.
And a picture of the cutie with the temper like his mama's. Yes, we're both a work in progress.
Still, I know what he needs IS his mama. It's late. He's tired. He just needs to be held and assured that it's all OK.
I walk over to him and he jerks away. I wait. He screams. Kicks. Flails. Finally he glances my way. He is ready to be helped. I happily oblige and hug him close. "It's OK, buddy. I've got you. I love you, sweet boy. You can calm down. Everything is OK." And with that, his fists loosen, his crying ceases and he snuggles in...resting in the arms of the one who loves him.
Yesterday morning - at an hour way too early to be awake - I woke up with this on my mind:
Psalm 61:1-4
Hear my cry, O God;
Attend to my prayer.
From the end of the earth I will cry to You,
When my heart is overwhelmed;
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
From the end of the earth I will cry to You,
When my heart is overwhelmed;
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
For You have been a shelter for me,
A strong tower from the enemy.
I will abide in Your tabernacle forever;
I will trust in the shelter of Your wings.
I tried to let the words sink in. "How do I get there, God? How can I really feel like I am on that rock that is higher than I? How can I be in the shelter of your wings?" Later that morning, a dear friend shared that she was struggling with worry and anxiety, so I shared the verses. They encouraged her and I thought maybe that passage was just meant for me to remember so that I could share with her. Maybe I was just the messenger. Still, those scriptures and questions lingered in my mind throughout the day.
As I watched my toddler and his tantrum that night, it all made sense and my questions were answered. Much like my little guy couldn't seem to make his way to me when that's what he really needed, I tend to do the same with God. Life gets tough and I pray, but I don't always dwell in His presence. I am not good at the "being still, and knowing." I don't allow Him to soothe me. I fight it because I'm angry or tired or succumbing to 53 different emotions all at once.
And in this Psalm, David is where I am at times. Overwhelmed. Crying out to God. Wanting help, but not knowing how to receive it. So what does he do? David asks to be led.
I'm quick to cry out, but not always good at allowing God to lead me into His presence. He waits with arms ready, longing to comfort, but I must first stop jerking away. I have to release my control and let Him draw me in to Him. And when He does, just like David, I am able to recognize His strength. I am able to dwell in His arms and trust in the shelter of His wings. It starts first with a cry and then a willingness to allow Him to truly work, but when I do that, the weight of this world is no longer mine, but His.
And a picture of the cutie with the temper like his mama's. Yes, we're both a work in progress.
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