The past couple of days have been a bit rough. Have you ever had a question that you wanted to understand about God, but that question ended up being built up so much in your head that instead of seeking it out, you became panicked about it instead?
In my case, I’ve been trying to understand more about God’s love. I know I can only love others by loving God first, and I can only love God through an understanding of how much He loves me. At least, that’s the understanding I have on the issue – I could be wrong, and feel free to throw out any other perspectives on this. But it’s interesting, because it seems that as I started looking for this understanding, a fear cropped into my head that because I didn’t understand, I wasn’t good enough for anything until I figured out the answer. To be honest, I’m not even sure what I’m seeking here… I think I want to acknowledge God’s love more than I have, to put it simply. And I’m seeing that I may just have to receive it, and stop asking “was it enough? All that He did, was it enough?” He’s offered me everything, so He can do no more but allow me to choose to receive what He offers daily. However, I have to fight not to analyze so much that I’m no longer aware of the possibilities of God’s love. He has a lot to offer.
But what a blessing God has presented, one particular gift of love from Him, a gift whom I see daily… Mike, who pulls me back to a more natural “in tune” state with God when I’m trying so hard to pick at the technicalities that I lose sight of relationship. The relationship with God can be oh so sweet. And I think it must be God loving me when He offers me this man who will direct me right back to His love.
On another note, Lindsay discussed little moments of joy the other day, and I felt like I had one of those today. It rained this morning but stopped this afternoon, while I was babysitting. Lil and I were about to sit down to play with her Little People toys (plastic toys are very mind-numbing objects to play with, in my opinion) when we saw a robin at the end of the driveway outside splashing around in a puddle. We went outside to watch it, and when it flew off, we rolled up our pants and splashed through the puddle ourselves. We proceeded to declare that the puddle and mud that it was creating were under our authority, and that I was the queen of the mud and Lil was the king – no the princess – no the worker, of the mud. We would bury our feet in it and let the mud ooze between our toes and over our feet so that we could wash them clean again in the puddle. We made mud people on the ground, gathered nuts for food and buried them in the mud as a stash, and made sure the pirates didn’t take our stuff. (Although the pirates were actually nice, Lil told me. She does too good a job believing bad people are actually out to get us, so it’s always easier to keep playing without crying when the people trying to take our stuff are nice.)
I LOVED playing outside with her. I loved having a reason to splash in puddles. I loved the mud between my toes. Lots of people drove by as we were playing, and I wonder how long it’s been since they saw kids playing in puddles (in this case, a preschooler and a college senior). I know I miss seeing kids do that. It was great to enjoy it with Lil, who is starting to develop a bit of an imagination, which is thrilling. If God is in the joy that I feel in the simple things, then I think He showed Himself today to be in mud puddles and the delight of a 3-year-old.
I wonder where else I can find His love, if I look for it.