Digging deep into my bag, I prayed to find any morsel of food for my overstimulated, worn-out toddler. The museum was crowded. The day was long. The bag was empty. Not even a half-eaten granola bar or a couple of sticky fruit snacks. I was doomed.
Onlookers gawked as my tiny human wailed and writhed against the restraints of his stroller. With his back arched and mouth wide, he made sure every bystander knew he was being held against his will.
Desperate measures were needed. Unbuckling the straps was no easy feat, and once free, my little guy slid off the stroller like a deflated balloon. Scooping him up, I thought my motherly embrace would calm him.
I was mistaken.
Then I spotted a dimly lit area away from the crowd, and with my hollering toddler on one hip, I propelled around the corner into a quiet hallway. Hysteria broke loose, but tightening my hold, I spoke softly as he whimpered and wriggled.
“Don’t fight, baby. I’ve got you. I know you’re tired and ready to go home. Hush now. It’s OK. Mama loves you.”
Shrieks gave way to stuttered breaths as he relaxed in my arms. Back and forth we swayed in a slow dance, and as I kissed those cheeks covered in sweat and snot, I feared my heart would bust wide open. My baby, why do you struggle so?
I wonder … is this what God feels toward us sometimes?
We press on to meet demands on our time and resources, setting a pace that doesn’t allow for breaks to recover from jam-packed schedules. Our energy dwindles until there are no reserves in our overstimulated, worn-out souls.
Oh, God, I’m so tired and afraid. Life is unfair, and I’m angry. The hurt is too much. The demand is too high. I can’t do this anymore!
All the while, God tightens His gentle hold on us as we struggle with our frenzied pace. Just like a loving mother holds her children, God holds us.
Based on what He has spoken in Scripture, we might imagine Him now saying, Why are you fighting, My child? Look — I’m here with you. I know you’re tired. I hear you, and I care. Come away with Me where it’s quiet. Be still for a moment. Breathe. Remember: I love you.
As we finally surrender, He leans in close to dry our tears. Then we can say, “I have calmed and quieted my soul … like a weaned child is my soul within me [ceased from fretting]” (Psalm 131:2).
God’s whisper is a divine invitation to come, be quiet, and hear what He has to say. His embrace is the slow dance that brings us into step with His good plan for our lives.
His love is the love that never stops loving.
Gentle Father, sometimes I feel so overwhelmed. Help me remember that You are always with me, waiting for me to turn to You. I trust You to care for and restore my soul. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
