It’s the toothy smile from ear to ear whenever he sees me. It’s the look in his eyes when I walk in the door and he flails his arms and legs to make his way to me. It’s the nuzzle on my neck and the grip on my shoulder of his chubby little fingers. It’s the way he calls out, “mama, mama, mama” when he is scared or anxious. He wants my presence, he wants my affection, he wants my touch.
I found myself in awe yesterday and the primal instincts of a baby. My butterball of a baby is 12 months old and feels fully himself in the company of myself, his brother, and his beloved daddy. He giggles, coos, and jabbers most when I’m with him, just the two of us. A strange person or foreign environment pushes him to hold me closer, never letting me out of his sight. He isn’t shy about his need and desire to be in my presence. He can’t help himself. He is most himself when with me.
That smile. Those curls. Those eyes.
Both my kids have taught me so much about the love, nearness, and sovereignty of Father God. With Jericho I was witness to the trauma that happens when you remove the presence of a mother, the presence of care and protection, love and provision. It destroys the human spirit, leaving a child alone, it fills them with anxiety, rage. Abandonment wreaks havoc on the soul. When placed in a family that can change with intentional bonding, consistent love and grace. I’ve witnessed Jericho find his footing, stand strong in his identity, and come alive. With my baby, sweet Kingston Cross, it has shown me once again the power of presence, the power of love, the power of need.
I believe we were built as dependent beings, in need of a father, a mother, to hold us close. As I nurture these two boys I find myself with the same innocent need for the presence of the Father, I need his touch, I need his voice, I need his heart close to mine. I feel fully alive as I crawl to his feet, feeling stronger, braver, and secure in his love for me. It’s everything. Its through this lens of love I see the world, love the world, and pray believing the same Father who is for me, is for you, for everyone.
“Thank you, Good Father, for holding me close, your presence makes my soul rest, convinced it will all be alright when you are near. You are acquainted with my grief, my loss, my suffering. You draw near, holding me close, speaking your promises over me. You are more than enough, always ever more than enough. I delight in you and will pursue you with reckless abandon with the innocence of a baby. I am fully alive in you when I seek you, dwelling in your presence. Oh Good Father, thank you for meeting me in the most triumphant and sorrowful moments. As long as you are with me I am alive.”