A few weeks ago, our church service ended somewhat unusually- with a call to stand up and hold hands with a neighbor for the final few moments of the sermon. The point being made was fantastic, but we were left holding hands with someone we may or may not know for a slightly awkward amount of time. I just stuffed the awkwardness aside. But the little girl sitting in front of me…not so much.
Cheyenne’s about three. She was sitting with several of her siblings, so she wasn’t forced to hold hands with a stranger, but rather her sisters. But she still didn’t like it. And as the illustration lagged on, she continued to grow more and more uncomfortable. It wasn’t long before she was silently choking back uncontrollable sobs, trying to maintain her composure.
As we were released back to our seats, the praise team was called up for the final song- including both of Cheyenne’s parents. In an effort to help this struggling little girl, I leaned over the row of chairs and swooped her up to try to offer what comfort I could. She immediately buried her face in my chest, hiccuping as she tried to keep from all out bawling.
Compassion welled up in me, and I wanted nothing more than to help calm down whatever it was that had knocked her so off balance in those few moments. I sat through the first song, holding her tightly, gently rubbing her back. Her sobs became less frequent, and her sniffles less dramatic as the song went on. I felt a joyful sense of accomplishment in helping soothe her spirit, along with a sense of gratitude for her willingness to let me. I’m sure she’d much prefer mom’s snuggles, and I was grateful for her trust.
With attention divided between Cheyenne and worship, I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention to the song itself. It was a pretty familiar. But suddenly, a line jumped off the stage and into my mind, right about the time I was pondering my desire to calm Cheyenne’s world.
“ ‘Cause You know just what we need before we say a word
You’re a good, good Father
It’s who You are, it’s who You are, it’s who You are
And I’m loved by You”
In that moment, an overwhelming sense of love filled my soul. I realized that my compassion for Cheyenne was rooted in love. Then the Spirit whispered “You felt all this in an insignificant moment that will be a blip on her radar as soon as service is over, towards a child that is not even your own. Imagine how strongly the Father feels for you.”
I tried. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how deep, wide, long, and lasting the kind of love He has for me is. It felt like a deep, bottomless pit that I could never understand, but was perfectly safe to fall into. And as we continued to rock during the song, I imagined myself relaxing into my Heavenly Father as He held both me and Cheyenne in a big fatherly embrace.
Later that afternoon, my husband and I got into a little tiff. It was one of those situations where we couldn’t exactly resolve it in the moment because we both had places to be. So we stuck a pin in it, leaving it somewhat undone as I jumped in my car to hang out with some friends. As I drove, I let my emotions and thoughts get the better of me, tears smearing through the makeup I’d just touched up. I tried to control it, but if you’re a crier like me, you know how difficult that is. I daintily dabbed around my mascara, then stuck my face directly in front of an air vent blasting cold air, hoping to dry the tears. I couldn’t show up like this. I don’t know these women quite well enough yet to explain THIS. But just about the time I got my face tidied up, I felt it well up again.
I felt very much like Cheyenne, trying desperately not to fall apart. Then I was reminded of the sweet encouragement from the Spirit earlier that morning. God loved me. He cared about my tears, and He wanted to dry them up and bring me peace. But would I trust Him with my tears, like Cheyenne trusted me?
About five minutes away, I found myself mentally finding a posture of surrender, falling into the embrace of God. Obviously I was driving…but I loosened my tense neck, slouched my shoulders, let out a big deep breath, and pictured the warm embrace of my Father holding me tight.
Was this conflict really worth all the emotion and tears? Probably not. In reality, was Cheyenne’s hand holding experience really as traumatic as she perceived it? Most likely not. But just as I didn’t feel the need to convince her of that in the moment, I don’t think God was interested in correcting me as I was driving. He just wanted to hold me for a second.
He has since guided me in figuring out how I can better keep control of my thoughts and emotions so that they don’t flare up and take control. He’s reminded me that that doesn’t need to be a normal response to conflict in my life. He’s correcting me, teaching me, and making me more like Him.
But first, I had to set aside my attempts to ‘keep it together’ and just collapse in His arms. Once I surrendered my hiccups, sobs, and bleeding mascara to Him; I could receive the peace and comfort He offered.
I pray that you get to know the God Who can take you as you are. Broken down or standing tall. Tear-filled eyes or ear-to-ear grins. Sobbing or laughing. He loves you. Don’t be afraid to bring Him who you are. He will not only comfort you and bring you peace, but He will also shape you to be more like Him. He’s a good, good Father to both lean into and learn from.
Love this, Kala…thanks for sharing!!! 🥰