I watch my 1-year-old granddaughter one day a week. She slows me down, thank God. She draws my focus to tiny hands, the floor I thought was clean, the lower shelves of my book case. She forces me to look at things from a different perspective. And she demonstrates an unparalleled determination.
As a new walker, she falls on her padded bottom countless times. Toddling around the house much faster than she should, she is tripped up by a loose throw rug, or a toy she doesn’t see, or the corner of the blanket she insists on dragging like Linus. But she never gives up. She just keeps getting up.
How many times have I tripped and fallen spiritually, emotionally, literally? I don’t get up quite as quickly as my granddaughter. Sometimes I just lie there for a minute and moan. After all, the ground is a little farther away for me. But just like her, I have someone watching over me, checking things out from my perspective, understanding exactly what it’s like to be in my shoes—or chubby toes. And He loves me even more than I love my granddaughter. Hard to imagine, isn’t it?
When I pick up that little bundle of wiggles to comfort her or listen to her frustrated, evolving language, I am reminded that the Lord does the same for me.
Run to Him when you fall. He will pick you up and comfort you.
As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you;
(Isaiah 66:13 NIV)