I woke feeling incredibly nauseous and at first I thought I was hungry. Come to think of it, I didn’t eat much yesterday. So I scarfed down a power bar and two pieces of toast. Maybe I needed water for my digestive system to kick in. Down a cup went. Nothing seemed to make the pain disappear, only exasperate.
By the time my daughter was up, I carried her into bed with me hoping some cuddle time would do the trick. But still it got worse.
Within 15 minutes, I was keeled over unable to hide my pain or hold my daughter, who so desperately wanted to ensure mommy was ok.
At one point, I attempted to hide out in the bathroom but she wouldn’t have any of it. She opened that door, found me prostrate on the floor, flung her entire body over mine and began to sob.
My heart broke that hers was breaking and I tried desperately to assure her everything was ok… with my words, attempting to keep a strong face and grimacing under my breath. But it didn’t work. She was in a full flood of tears, nestling herself in my shoulder sobbing.
She knew better than to fall for my act. I wasn’t ok and that broke her heart.
Dave had shared something earlier that a child phycologist had shared with him. She commented on how we were in the adorable stages of 13-18 months, where children developmentally don’t yet understand that they are their own entity. They believe they are an extension of their parents- specifically, their moms.
This made complete sense. My daughter saw my pain as her pain and if I was weeping, so too should she be, because in her mind we are one.
And then it got me thinking. This too is how our Heavenly Father must feel for us.
We are made in his image, his children whom he loves enough to die for and who has done everything in his power to love, protect and bring us home safely. We are his and we are one.
He dwells in us by the power of the Holy Spirit and we are kept hidden in him by the power of Christ’s sacrifice binding us together eternally. The sacrifice he made today, this good [terrible] Friday.
Our lives mean something to him and no matter how hard we try to hide our deepest feelings from him, put on a brave face or will ourselves to keep going, God sees what’s underneath- the truth of what we’re experiencing and his heart breaks with us when we’re in pain.
Our sorrow is his sorrow and he will sit with us, no matter how long it takes, to simply be with us, comfort us and let us know we’re not alone; whether we see it or not.
Whether we accept his love yet or not, he is still there nestling into us, catching every tear and sharing in our hurt. Because we are his children- a part of him- and he simply can’t help it.
So whatever it is you’re going through- whether it something small and trivial like the flu- or large and life shattering, like cancer- you’re not alone. God sees you and he sees me. He is not a distant God or a domineering head in the sky.