My son is just now beginning to recover from being sick this weekend. I've been wading through vomit and diarrhea; trying really hard to embrace this season even in the midst of moments like these. For right now, that means literally being both a trash receptacle and a soft place to land; cuddles and hugs freely given. It's both bittersweet and hard. But, it's holy. It's a reflection of God's own love for us.
This being my son's first time to take ill, I can only imagine how scared and confused he has been. How do we explain bellyaches and throwing up to a two year old? We can't. How do we explain that it will all be over soon - when he doesn't really have a sense of time or a point of reference? We don't.
Instead, we scoop our little one into our arms, stroking his forehead and holding him tight. We are his comfort, his safety, and his sense of control. He climbs into our huge master bed and snuggles in, knowing that this is where mommy and daddy are, this is where safe is, and this is where he can find rest.
It comes naturally to us - this desire to seek haven, refuge, and stability. We flee from what we can't control, or don't understand or what could harm us. We look for someone who understands and who seems to have it in control.
It never ceases to amazes me how much I learn from little ones. How, even though I am grown - I'm just like them. I'm sometimes confused and sometimes scared and other times just looking for stability, rhythm and routine.
I have no real sense of time, of last days and significant moments. A season to me could easily be a minute to the Lord. My point of reference is worldly, where His is beyond it... beyond me.
We can't run from our circumstances. Or the season of life we are in, though we can certainly try. We can exert a lot of energy trying to fight, explain, or blame - that's where God takes our trash. He calmly stands in front of us, waiting for us to be done. Rubbing our back, if we'll let him.
God is more than just a place to leave our trash. He's also our soft place to land.
Our home. Our haven. Our refuge.
He welcomes us with open arms when things seem unbearable. When it feels like we aren't just wading and we're actually drowning He knows that explanations have little to do with our comfort.
He invites us into His arms. He closes them tightly around us, scooping us up, and out. He holds us tight, gently loving us the way we need it most. We may not be able to change our season. Or our circumstances. But, it's here - in the arms of the Almighty where we know we are safe, and where we can find rest.