Daddy's Girl

I watched my daughter giggle from deep down the other day.  It was a typical evening.  Mark was watching the Giants game, and I was puttering around in the kitchen looking to start dinner.  She sat curled up, in what has come to be her favorite spot.  She was experiencing the best part of her day.  There was no cartoon involved, nor did a toy catch her gaze.  With a nose nuzzled into the cool smell of after-shave, Makayla delighted in her Daddy - and he in her.  

I've been reading a book over the past week or so, about the idea of God being my Daddy.  It is a strange concept for me to wrap my mind around - I don't know why I struggle so much.  Wanting to crawl into His lap, longing to belt out the song of my heart and dance on top of His over sized feet - yes, this is all true of the little girl inside.  So where does my struggle lie?  I've come to realize that my concept of God can be somewhat skewed.

Romans 8:28 paints a rainbow portrait of God's unmistakable love for me:  And we know in all things God works for the good of those who love  him, who have been called according to his purpose.  

There are some truths that take a really long time to sink in.  It will take several bounces on the knee for me to really trust that God, my Daddy, is safe.  One inch at a time, this little girl is bound to resurface.  Regardless of my circumstances, regardless of how I might "feel", God loves me.  His Word says so.

I long to enjoy the sweetness of complete abandonment some day.  Like my precious little curly cue, I hope someday to surprise myself with a giggle of delight . . . by just enjoying God - knowing that He holds everything, including me, in the palm of His hand.