“I used to think God wouldn’t talk to me, but now I know I’m just selective with what I choose to hear.” -Bob Goff
Month 5.
Girls’ Home.
14 girls all fighting for attention. Fighting to play UNO, to put together a puzzle, to teach me numbers in their language, to show me the picture that they drew, to show me they have on my favorite color pants, to sit in my lap, to play with my hair, to tell me about their day.
The list goes on and on and on.
14 girls whom my soul loves so, so deeply and it hasn’t even been a week. I’m in for it, people. Because these girls have captured my heart and it is utterly hopeless to think that this month will eventually come to an end, in tears.
I am in for lessons upon lessons from the Father because I’ve already learned so many and here is what He wants you to know about one of those.
At the home I feel as though I hear my name 57 times per millisecond. I feel as though I always have little hands grabbing mine and I only have two. Sometimes I escape upstairs for five minutes because for five minutes my body and mind and heart get a moment to not be pulled in five different directions.
Then the Lord reminds me of what He wants me to get from this:
How often am I like these girls? How often do I fight for my Father’s attention? How often do I try and show Him a beautiful picture that I’ve drawn or how often have I opened His word because I feel like that’s the only way He will notice me? How often have I tried to win over His affection with my words? How often have I felt that I needed to be better than every single other person around me so that He would look my way for five seconds?
Conviction.
Jesus juke.
Oh, Lord. What a reminder. A reminder that I am my Father’s favorite. That the word says that I am the apple of His eye. The word says that He knows every hair on my head and every thought in my head. His word also says that His words are faithful, pure and true.
That the picture I am trying so desperately to show Him is already hanging on His fridge. That it’s actually a refrigerator big enough to hold pictures of every moment of my life, that He looks at often and that He smiles at often. That my pictures are actually in His wallet. That He is proud of me without my efforts. That He is proud of me despite my failures.
When I get to heaven after I finish doing all that He has asked of me on this earth I believe that we will sit down together and He will pull off His favorite moments from the refrigerator and He will remind me of them. He will show me His favorites. He will show me the ones that I didn’t think were so important in the moment but really they meant everything to Him. He will show me the moments that I thought were so small and so insignificant but that He sees as huge and important.
If there is one thing that the Lord is teaching me on this race and through these beautiful girls it’s this: My God doesn’t need a five minute escape. He never feels pulled in a million different directions. He has time to look at every drawing and hear every word and hear every single thought that is rattling around in my brain.
He not only hears the words I’m saying but He has time to respond to them if I would just listen. Another blog post could be written on that.
I know the Lord thinks the same of you. I believe there’s a refrigerator with your name on it. With your moments. With your pictures. With your words. With you thoughts and of course, with your favorite foods inside. I believe that Him and Jesus sometimes look down and they chuckle at your jokes and they laugh at your ridiculous dance moves. I believe they cry when you’re sad and they rejoice when things are well.
I want to know every thought these girls have. I want to see every picture that is drawn. I want to do the same puzzle with them 98 times in five minutes. And that, my friends, is humbling. To be reminded that I am mere human because it’s not possible. I am mere human and yet He knows my name.
Sidenote: Meet my new teammates over on the left side of this blog!
