on miracles

As my daughter grows, she's almost three now, I have found myself taken aback by love. She takes my breath away with eyes sparkling blue that look to me with tenderness and wispy white gold hair that curls at the tips - she is so beautiful. A staggering, tears catch in my throat and lips long to cover with kisses beautiful that I want to consume. This love, this love that is utterly inescapable, has nothing to do with her - what she does, how she behaves, her goodness or worthiness. Nothing. When the sweet heart that God is growing in her wells up and she runs to hug my legs and tell me of her love, that is blessing. Abundant, treasured blessing. But it is not why I love. I love because I can not help myself, because my Creator has gifted me with her little heart, her blue eyes and her fluffy hair. He hand picked her for me - this love can not be helped. And as she grows, as I begin to glimpse the girl God has planned, that love deepens, quickens.

God worked a miracle in my heart yesterday. Rarely will I use the word miracle, other than, perhaps, to describe how God drew me to Him when I first became a believer. Drawing that heart - miraculous indeed. However, the divine work He did yesterday was nothing short of miraculous. I have been a believer for almost 7 years and for 7years I have not felt the love of God. I have understood it, believed it, but it has never penetrated the depths of me. I've known this, have prayed for years about it. And yesterday, God broke through.

Here is a portion of my prayer to Him from that moment...

Lord, I come to You, back weary from work, stomach tight from strain. Depleted, tired and yet completely longing for communion with You. You are Father, You are rest. You are arms that strongly encircle and fingertips that gently caress. In You, there is such love for me. Sweaty, dirty, smelly, overweight me. Yet you see child, washed white as snow. A daughter forgiven, beautiful.

I have found my rest.

He has given me freedom in a way I could have never imagined. His love has penetrated a heart so broken and filled with self-condemnation and He has transplanted that darkness with the light of His perfect love. The love I have for my daughter - that boundless, tender, staggering, can not help myself kind of love - is only a shadow of God's love for me. His love has nothing to do with me, nothing to do with achievement. He loves me because it is His holy nature, He cannot not love me. And, in Christ - cleansed by the blood of the Lamb - we are wholly accepted, wholly forgiven. We are child, washed white as snow, beautiful.