Sitting Close

I’m sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of our bedroom, watching my little Estelle sleep soundly. My tea is still hot, and I can’t help but sit here, welled up with how much I love her. The bassinet is an arm’s length away, yet somehow it feels too far. We spend our days all wrapped up in each other. Sometimes I miss being able to run around this house with two free hands or sleep eight hours straight, but I wouldn’t trade this version of today for any other.

I’ve been holding her extra close these past twelve hours after her two-month shots, ready to give her any ounce of comfort she might need.

I think to myself that I couldn’t possibly love her more than I do in this moment. There is nothing she could ever do—or fail to do—that could change this love. It feels like I might sit in this posture forever, just close enough should she ever need a thing. I hope my love, and my arms, always feel this close to her.

I begin my quiet time in this chair thinking all of these things about Estelle, and it changes the way I talk to God today. This love teaches me something about Love that I already know, but today I need this truth deep in my bones. So I’m doing a lot of remembering, and just hoping this remembering becomes belief that I live from rather than just remember.

Maybe God too, delights most in:

Being everything I need.

All of the comforting, the loving, the never leaving.

Simply being close to me.

Because this is true for Estelle:

She needs to do nothing more to earn or receive my love.

I need her to be nothing more than my child.

She is exactly who I would have her be—perfect in every way. I couldn’t love her more if she tried.

She is my child, after all.

So let me not begin my time with God wrapped up in whether I could be doing more or being more. May being loved by Him be the destination today.

I spend so much time talking to God about my should-haves, could-haves, and would-haves. But I am wasting time. Instead, we spend these thirty minutes all wrapped up in each other. He comforts me. He counsels me.

I almost never find God when I search for Him through the lens of doing, being, and earning. Instead, I sit still and believe He is already there. I choose to believe this Love, These arms, are always there, just close enough should I ever need a thing.

He holds me close in a way that allows me to live from a different place— more love, more forgiveness, and more grace to give.

After all, I am His child.