Insignificant insecurities, polished, mused thoughts

Sometimes I wonder, as one often does after good movies, what is purpose? What is our purpose? Where do we fit? Along with the greater love for people that are most precious to us. I love my son, even though he stresses me out to no end. I worry that I'm not a good mother, mainly because I don't know what I'm doing... But he seems to love me even more anyway. I feel that if he ever lost me he'd be devastated, lost, unsure of who he could trust. I'd do anything for him. Simply because he's apart of me, a being that was created in partially my image, in my body, from my body. And from this experience is where my love for God grows and swells, aches to be near Him, and devouring to hear His voice. There are perceptions as a parent that I've gotten between God and we His children and parenting. Frustrations of a child equal Gods frustrations as we as individuals struggle with our pride and 'our way' and doing things that He asked. Sometimes it's funny to think that while we're being 'kids' He's got the same stern but loving facial expression that I have on my face with Caleb. I find it amazing how He hurts for us as I hurt for Caleb when he is hurt or sick.

Going through a rough break-up where I felt like a tree full of life cut to the roots. He knew what I was going through. He offered these words to me: "You know that ache deep inside, the one that makes your stomach knot up. That tearing, numbing ache... I've felt it, I've lived it. Your exact pain, your exact thoughts. You know when I cried out on the cross? In that moment I was in the middle of your world, your thoughts, your hurts and I didn't want you to feel that way ever. You are my love, my darling, my precious beautiful being. I am here, you are not alone."

Something about a parent. Always there to calm the storm, to offer comfort in the midst of chaos, hurt and being left out. Always one to say I love you, it's safe now, I am here. That means a lot. Newborns with their mom or dad, Kids scared of the dark or sick, we as we bask in His presence cherish this 'closeness' His touch of reassurance. Something that's not of me, but for me. The parent cheering me on from the sidelines and the one that gently tucks me into bed. The One who heals my heart.