In Daddy's arms

Last night my newborn son Izzy fell asleep as I was holding him. It was getting late, and sleep isn't something that I've had a lot of lately. So I excitedly tip-toed to the crib and tucked him in. I got in bed, and I nearly fell asleep, myself, when Izzy began to cry. I rushed back to the crib and picked him up, doing my best to fight through the drowsiness and comfort him. And though I was in a zombie-like-state, I was successful...Izzy quickly relaxed, closed his eyes, and fell asleep. So I repeated the process of tip-toeing to the crib, tucking him in, and getting into my own bed. And...of course, Izzy woke up again but only long enough for him to find my arms around him til he fell back asleep. This routine continued a couple more times until I decided to just ignore my own sleep and hold him for a while.

It was then in those quiet moments that I felt God tugging at my heart and showing me a picture of myself. All too often I struggle to find rest and peace in the wrong places...places that don't make sense...places that aren't eternal...places that aren't Truth...places that are fading away...and all the while my Abba Daddy waits, more than willing, to pick me up and wrap His big, holy arms around me. As I watched my son sleep last night, I saw the perfect image of peace and rest. It was a son who was wrapped in the arms of his father.

God, please hold me today. No one else will do. This world has nothing for me. In Jesus name, Amen.