But it really feels nice in a way. Especially with my mind being covered with so many things...felt so suffocated, it seems like a short rest and release physically from all of it, just to be there and enjoy the presence of a few people. A form of escaping? It might be.
But I really needed a short break from things, the clouded and surrounded burdening feel. But I'm nothing...what can I do?
Guess it's still best to surrender to Him, to remind myself that I'm not really anything much at all in the midst of it all.
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Touches of Tenderness
by Max Lucado
My child’s feelings are hurt. I tell her she’s special. My child is injured. I do whatever it takes to make her feel better. My child is afraid. I won’t go to sleep until she is secure.
I’m not a hero. I’m not a superstar. I’m not unusual. I’m a parent. When a child hurts, a parent does what comes naturally. He helps.
Moments of comfort from a parent. As a father, I can tell you they are the sweetest moments in my day. They come naturally. They come willingly. They come joyfully.
If all of that is true, if I know that one of the privileges of fatherhood is to comfort a child, then why am I so reluctant to let my heavenly Father comfort me?
Why do I think he wouldn’t want to hear about my problems? (“They are puny compared to people starving in India.”)
Why do I think he is too busy for me? (“He’s got a whole universe to worry about.”)
Why do I think he’s tired of hearing the same old stuff?
Why do I think he groans when he sees me coming?
Why do I think he consults his list when I ask for forgiveness and asks, “Don’t you think you’re going to the well a few too many times on this one?”
Why do I think I have to speak a holy language around him that I don’t speak with anyone else?
Why don’t I let my Father do for me what I am more than willing to do for my own children?
I’m learning, though. Being a parent is better than a course on theology. Being a father is teaching me that when I am criticized, injured, or afraid, there is a Father who is ready to comfort me. There is a Father who will hold me until I’m better, help me until I can live with the hurt, and who won’t go to sleep when I’m afraid of waking up and seeing the dark.
Ever.
And that’s enough.
from 'The Applause Of Heaven'
Copyright 1990, Max Lucado
Copyright 1990, Max Lucado
