Skip to main content

I Dare Ya

I'm hopeless. Smitten. Devoted. Enamored. Fanatical. Infatuated. Wildly in love.

My husband and I will celebrate our 29th wedding anniversary this Sunday, and while I can honestly say that the above list still applies to my love for him (yes, there are times when I look at him and still feel the fluttering of butterflies one would have thought long gone), I'm talking about someone I met just this past summer. She's of average height for her age (which isn't saying much - munchkins would have to look down to see her), thin, bald, and has eight tiny teeth barely poking through her gums. Her only form of communication right now is through facial expressions and strategically-tuned vocals. She can't enunciate words. She can't walk, much less ride a bike or drive a car. She can't even feed herself.


And yet I'm beside myself in her presence. When we're apart, I have to tear myself away from pictures of her and make myself be a mature, responsible adult. It's not easy.

I saw her this past Saturday. At six and a half months, she's into grabbing cheeks and chins and noses. While her mommy fed her dinner, I squatted down beside her chair and let her have her way with me. I didn't care that her little grip actually hurt. She looked at me, couldn't take her eyes off me. Her barely controlled eye/hand coordination was directed at me. I know she was just exploring, but I was in heaven. Since Saturday night, I have called to mind again and again her round little face, her beautiful baby blues, her arm jerkily reaching out to me. Each time I think of it, my heart melts. I could live off that moment for weeks.

Silly, isn't it? I know, and yet I can't help it. I'm so in love that any attention she shows me thrills me.

And it makes me wonder. If in my imperfect love, I feel this way, is it possible that God - in His perfect love - feels this way (and then some) about us? Could it be that His heart thrills when we turn our eyes toward Him, when we reach out to Him, even if it's just to explore His face? Can we even fathom being loved by a God whose heart melts when we look at Him? Can we grasp being loved like that by our Creator? Do we dare believe it?

Go ahead. Look at Him. Dare to believe that He loves you. Dare to believe that you thrill His heart. It will change your life.

Comments

  1. In order to inspire others about faith, what does it look like if we dare like you challenge us to dare? What does it look like in a person's life if they believe that God truly is crazy about them, has their back, won't let them be destroyed by the enemy, loves them more than they could ever imagine?

    I have been asking myself this question, not so that I would have a list of things to do in order to prove that I believe, but that I would be inspired to believe.

    Maybe we can't answer the question for anyone else but ourselves. That is an interesting thought. Only God's created can answer for themselves what would it be like if we really believed, because only in that answer would we find what the new creation in a person's heart thinks. And if we find that, we find God!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Resting...Resting?

A few weeks ago, my husband and I had dinner with our daughter-in-law and two of our grand children. My daughter-in-law lost her job a couple of months ago. I wanted an update on current job prospects or plans, so I asked, "What are you doing these days?" Her answer was simple and yet incredibly profound.              Resting. (Is that even a word in the American lexicon?) I'm proud of her, and of them, for making the decision that it's time for her to rest. She's been in hyper-drive for all the years I've known her (over 16).  That word has haunted me since she spoke it. Resting. What would happen if I...if you...gave it a try?  In Psalm 23: 6a, David says Surely goodness and mercy will follow me. In K.J. Ramsey's The Lord is My   Courage (page 240), she tells us that our English word, "follow," doesn't convey the power behind the original Hebrew word that David used (radaph). She tells us that radaph means "to pursue, chase, and pers

It's Time to Take off the Sunglasses

 Americans have a favorite pastime, and no, I'm not referring to baseball or football. This pastime doesn't cost any money. You don't need tickets, and there's no set game time. It happens every day. You don't need to be physically fit. You don't need special training. We do it at book club, at work, on the road, in meetings, having lunch with friends, etc. You get the idea. What is it? Complaining. We love to complain, and I'm right there in the fray, tearing everything and everyone apart. Sometimes it wears me out. My mom passed away many years ago, and one of my all-time favorite memories of life with her goes back to my summer between high school and college. We worked together that summer. Drove together every morning, bright and early, right into the rising sun. One morning, my mom reached into her purse and grabbed her sunglasses, putting them on just as we rounded the bend on the St. Louis-rush-hour-busy road that put us directly in the sun's pat

1%

Gideon: By his own admission, his family was the weakest of his tribe, and he was the weakest in his family (Judges 6: 15-16). Midianites: Big bullies who oppressed the Israelites back in the day. As the story goes, this little-nobody-Gideon is doing manual labor for his dad (I'm thinking that this might be akin to working at Walmart - not exactly a career - or even a job - that causes anyone to preen), when an angel calls him, "a mighty man of valor" (Judges 6: 12). Huh? Oh, you mean this other guy, right? Nope, I'm talkin' to you. Fast forward and we find this little-nobody-Gideon camping near Israel's oppressors with a team of 32,000. This seems like a lot until Gideon checks out the enemy and finds that there are so many Midianites and their pals, the Amalekites, that no one can count them. They seemed "like locust in abundance and their camels were without number as the sand that is on the seashore." (Judges 7: 12) Gulp. What does God