The Universal Question

I have a 3 1/2 year old daughter. She is intelligent, sensitive and so smart. She is truly a beautiful human being.

Sometimes I happen to see her face when she is rejected or ignored.

I watch her face fall.

I watch her heart sink.

I watch a piece of her fade away.

And I'm not talking about a major rejection here.

I am talking about someone simply not hearing her or acknowledging her.

It is a serious blow to a 3 1/2 year old.

The same question echos in her heart that echos in mine: "Who am I? Am I good enough? Am I TOO much?"

Sometimes she will say, "I need someone to hold me really bad!"

When I am connected enough to see it, I am struck by how universal that statement is!

Aren't we all crying out with the same little, fragile heart?!

Aren't we all saying, "PLEASE someone acknowledge me! PLEASE someone affirm me! PLEASE someone tell me that I am wanted!"?

I remember the first time I put my daughter in the nursery at church.

It took me MONTHS to get up the courage to leave her with someone else, but I finally forced myself to try it.

In the middle of the service I went to check on her.

I peeked around the corner only to see my daughter sitting, alone, in a walker, in the corner of the room.

The woman watching the kids had all of the other children on the opposite side of the room, with her back turned to my daughter.

My little one sat straining her little head, trying to see what everyone else was doing.

My heart raged. I took her out.

(I DID put her in the nursery again, eventually, in case you are wondering).

Don't you think that God sees us, alone in the corner? Don't you think that He sees when everyone else has their backs turned to us? Don't you think that he sees when we are forgotten? Neglected? Alone?

And don't you think that God is (as a protective parent would be) MOVING to rescue us?

It might seem like a long, long time until we see him coming. We might not even realize that he DOES, in fact, see us!

He hears our cry. He reads the hidden words of our hearts. He knows when we are too tired to lift up our heads. He knows when we are too lonely to utter a sound. He knows when we are left alone in the corner of the room.

And he hears us when we, out of our deep questioning, say, "I need someone to hold me."

We may be older, wiser, more aware... but we are all still human. We are as human as my daughter.

The question is in us from day one.

"Who am I? Am I good enough? Am I too much?"

And the answer has been speeding towards us before we could even learn to form a thought.

"I see you. I hear you. I am coming to rescue you."