My fifteen-month-old daughter is not a cuddler. She would prefer not to be touched or bothered, thank you very much. If she is held at all, she prefers to be held facing out, taking in as much of the world as she can. She wants complete independence and does a VERY good job of asserting her demands. We joke that she could be a quarterback – or whatever guy it is that sticks his arm out and can block even the biggest attacker. She swings her tiny little arm with fierce determination and puts deliberate distance between herself and anyone who dares come near.
But when she is sick, she wants nothing else but to be held. She’ll toddle around, sniffing and rubbing her eyes, and then dive head first into my legs, crying to be picked up. She’ll nestle her head right under my chin, tuck her little arms in, and rest.
As much as I hate her being sick, the cuddles are just everything.
This past week she was sick, and I happened to catch sight of us in the mirror as she was taking a rare rest in my arms. My heart jumped at the image. As much as she likes to push me away, when she is in need she knows where to turn.
Of all the relationships, God chose to portray Himself as the Father and we as His children. I know that He must feel that same sense of delight when we come running to Him when we are at our lowest, when our needs are beyond our capabilities. But how much more would it mean if we stayed close to Him even when we didn’t feel like we “needed” Him? If we stopped trying to slip out of His embrace when our needs were met? If we stopped trying to do everything so independently with stiff arms clearing our own ways?
Being held when you’re sick is great, but being held simply out of love is even better.
Today I’m going to find my rest in Him. I’m going to dive in head first, tuck in my arms, and just be held.