I’m A Little Girl

I’m sitting here thinking about a conversation I had with a dear friend of mine a couple weeks ago. We were sitting in a tea shop talking and I told her, “Just like how a little girl doesn’t have to get cleaned up before she jumps into her father’s arms, neither do you. You don’t have to get cleaned up before running and jumping into Dad’s arms”. He takes you just as you are: dirty and scrapped up.

I’m realizing that I’m that little girl. The little girl runs off against her father’s warning of staying close and with a surge of energy runs full force toward her own goal not knowing that the ground is unleveled and rocky. She eventually trips and falls, getting herself extremely dirty and scrapped up.

She gets to her feet with tears in her eyes and runs straight back to her dad. Her hands are up in the air to show her dad that the palms of her hands are hurt but also signaling that she is coming straight for his arms in complete surrender.

I haven’t learned that type of innocence yet.

I try rubbing off the dirt first. I try getting the dirt and gravel out of my scraps while walking back slowly to Him with my head down thinking of the best apology I could come up with before having to face Him. I’m trying to hide the pain and wounds to make it look like I’m actually ok: that the fall really wasn’t that bad.

My hands stay down by my side instead of up in the air in complete surrender.
 
I’m not sure what the next step is; I don’t know how to be that way quite yet. But I know that my Father loves me and instead of looking up and seeing eyes full of disappointment, I’ll feel an embrace that makes the world melt away.