A Child's Fear

I just got home from BN a bit ago. I thought it was just going to be a typical night. But God stirred up an old longing.

I staffed Kids for most of the night. When Will went on lunch and break, I covered customer service. At one point, a boy about 9 or 10 walked up with tears in his eyes. "I can't find my mom or dad, " he said as he struggled to hold back the tears.

I got their names and paged them to customer service. They were there in an instant. "We were right . . . ." The dad paused mid sentence and took in his son's face. "Come here, Buddy." And then there were hugs.

I was reminded of a story my mom told about when my sister and I were 2 or 3. We had arrived home from a trip to the zoo and had both fallen asleep in the car. My mom carried my sister inside. Before she knew it, our neighbor was at the door with my twin and I. She had plucked us from the car when we awoke screaming and disoriented for our mother.

I don't know how many times I heard this tale. But it struck me tonight that the part that was always missing was where she gathered us in her arms and told us it was all okay. The retellings always felt like being chided for having such silly childhood fears in the backseat of our familiar car in our familiar drive way when she had only been gone for minutes.

It hit me tonight. That the parental reaction tonight was the one I longed for as a child and even sometimes as an adult.

So, I'm rolling it around in my brain. How does God respond in the midst of my fears?

He scoops me up and holds me close. He whispers in my ear. He does not chide. He stands beside me, even leads me even in the valley of the shadow of death. He comforts me. And then, He gives me rest.