Blindfolded Child Seeking Tender Mother


Did you watch it?  If you did, you need a mountain of tissues.  If you didn’t, what follows will make absolutely NO sense whatsoever.  Once you’ve dried your own tears, forge on.

Today at church I had the privilege of praying for mothers.  In one service, I asked all moms to stand.  Before I reached the end of the invitation, one mom literally SPRUNG to her feet, proudly proclaiming by the smile on her face, “YES!  I am a mom!” (Clearly, she’s beyond the sleepless infant years, but still young enough to spring up.)

In the next service, the above video played.  I guess because we needed a little more emotion in that moment, my husband began playing the piano as I reluctantly ascended to the platform.  (I did find locking eyes with him on my way up reassuring.  He knows me too well.)  I stood for a moment begging God to get me through the next few moments without an embarrassing meltdown.  This video, the one you were supposed to watch before you began reading, the one I had already seen twice, is about so much more than children knowing their mothers, and buying jewelry.  It’s about the creation finding the creator.  Don’t skip over that last sentence.

It’s about the creation finding the creator.  

I want my children to know me well enough to find me.  When they’ve wandered far from home, I want them to be able to find their way back where they will find my delicate fingers, my gentle arms, my soft skin,  my tender embrace, and my warm heart.  I want my creation to know me, their creator.

And so I touch them daily.  I kiss them and I hug them and I tickle them and sit crowded on the couch under covers so they will know my touch and they will know me and my deep love for them.  And if my creations know me, their creator, they will always be able to find their way home.  My heart prays this is true.

My children are just like yours.  They test out other moms and other family systems.  The grass is often greener at Tiffany’s house because she can watch PG-13 movies before she’s 13.  They often long to be like Josh’s family because they go to the desert instead of church.  (For non-Californians, “the desert” is a weekend spent on two to four wheels, literally “in the desert.”  Sand covers every inch of your body for 48 hours.  Most Southern Californians love their desert. I do not.) One of my sweet darlings recently remarked, “Listen, my mom still calls parents to make sure the party is supervised. You’ve got nothing on me.”

But maybe, if my wandering creation knows me, they will eventually wander home.

And that’s where this video intersects with my Lord.  I wander.  I test out other family systems.  I stumble through this life blind-folded by jealousy and hurt and ambition, until I finally find my Creator once again.

Do you suppose God is like those moms, patiently, hopefully waiting for us to remember His delicate fingers,  His gentle arms, His soft skin, His tender embrace, and His warm heart?  Hmm.  Yes, I suppose so.  And I also suppose that there is nothing more important than for the Creation to be known by the Creator.

Watch that video again, with Jesus in mind. Our Creator wants to know and be known by His Creation.  Seek Him.  You’ll find Him.

O Jesus, sometimes I need your strong arms and your mighty voice.  And sometimes, I need your tender embrace and your gentle whisper.  Today, I celebrate your delicate touch.  Your Creation comes home to you, My Creator