Shadows

I've come to understand that separation anxiety waxes and wanes. We had been relatively free of it for a while and now it has reared its ugly little head. I wonder when Abigail is older if I won't long for the days she wanted to stay with us.

Currently she, especially when tired, lives in my shadow--only mine. She just wants held and comforted and to know everything is alright and that she is loved. I confess that I find it at times trying and must sigh-out my patience. I am handling this time much more graciously than I have over the past year.

Maybe I have begun to take more responsiblity for my crummy attitude. Maybe I am deliberately more grateful; I remember the gifts I have been given. Perhaps it is because Abigail has begun to express her own independence and I know that infanthood is waning. I think about the days coming when Abigail will prefer her own room to my presence.

I think it is a combination of all these things. I think, too, that God is speaking to my heart; He is reminding me that children inherit the kingdom of God. How often am I the teenager in my faith: rebellious, passive-aggressive, pensive, pouting? How often do I live in God's shadow: wanting to be in His presence, finding my peace, pleasure, security, and completion in Him? And yet He who has the power to think me gone waits and welcomes. How often do I welcome in gladness Abigail's pursuit and stop to love on her instead of continuing my work? How convicting! I have heart work coming.