Running

Sometimes I can hear a song a thousand times before the meaning really hits me.  And, then when it hits me, it's that awesome moment of clarity, a powerful a-ha moment.  I've mentioned before that I'm not the greatest singer in the world...though after watching the latest American Idol auditions, I'm certainly not the worst either!  But, I do love to sing.  And, I find that a lot of worship music really speaks to me in a way that often just hearing a message does not.  On Sunday we sang Forever Reign.
(Oh) I'm running to Your arms
I'm running to Your arms
The riches of Your love
Will always be enough
Nothing compares to Your embrace
Light of the world forever reign.
And, I started to visualize what it would be like to actually run to Jesus' arms.  You know, to literally run to the arms of my Savior.  It's hard to imagine what kind of joy you would feel.  Suddenly, I was thinking about my sweet babies.  I love that feeling of coming in the door after being away and hearing little feet running and little voices shouting my name joyfully.  I can barely put my things down before I have two little torpedoes barreling toward me.  John doesn't even make it through the door anymore.  Cora has learned to recognize the sound of his truck pulling into the driveway.  As soon as he turns the truck off, she and Carys shoot out the door rain or shine to greet him.  It's not that their day was terrible or that they had spent the day anxious for his return.  It's more so that at that moment, they recognized something was missing.  Something special.  Something safe.  Something that provides and protects.  Something loving and kind.  And, at that moment, all they know is the need to be in those arms.  Nothing is going to keep them from those arms at that moment.  I remember one time when Cora was around 2 years old.  John had to be away for some training; we hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks.  When he came through the door, she could not get to him quickly enough.  She buried her head in his neck and just hugged him as tight as her tiny little arms could manage.  When I tried to hug the both of them, she quite literally just pushed me away.  She was not about to let anyone or anything interfere with her being in his arms.  You see, while she was there, she felt secure and complete.

It's not that John and I don't get a charge out of that kind of devotion, too.  One of my friends told me once that having children is like having your heart walking around on the outside of your body. Isn't that the truth!  Honestly, I had no idea the kind of aching love that you feel for those little selfish, egocentric, helpless and needy, yet in every way amazing creatures.   Having my children scramble to see me after I've been away is pure joy.  It is almost unfathomable to think that God in heaven feels the same way - except, in that case, it is not He who has been away.  He is constantly there; I am the one who thinks I need to do it on my own.  The really fantastic part is that when I recognize that I can't, I don't have to wait for Him to pull in the driveway or come through the door before I run to Him; He is always close.  He is always there with mercy, grace, security and love.  He is constant.  And, even more than that, He feels joy when I draw near.  Imagine that!  The Creator of this universe feels joy because of me!  It begs the question of why I feel I must ever be away?  Well, I'm human, and I'm stubborn, but I hope that one day I will recognize that the security of that embrace is more than anything this world has to offer.  Until then, I guess I'm going to keep on running.