I have realized, through a series of unfortunate events, that this semester has been quite trying. And not just on me. All of my friends seem to be dealing with issues. These issues are flying perpetually at all of us and are quite a load to handle. From relatives with health issues to that world of love, we all have had our share of crosses. And the crosses keep coming.
There have been several nights that, on our hall alone, at least four girls are crying. We all just get so down and laiden with the suffering that we need some kind of outlet. So, girls do the logical thing. We cry, because clearly this is going to solve all of our problems. Anyhow, usually whoever cried the night before is holding the ones who are letting out thier tears on this particular night.
I am thankful that most of my girlfriends (except two, who should be over more often than they are) live on my hall. This is such a comfort as is the fact that we all are going through growing pains together. It’s so much harder when you’re the only one. So, this semester has found much chocolate given and coffee brewed for sad little girls.
But at the heart of our home here on campus is a wonderful little home that seems to call all of us there, regardless of the extent of the sufferings with which we are dealing. And in that little home is our Dad. He loves us so tenderly and dearly, more than we can ever love Him, even in the most intimate of moments. And as we kneel before our Daddy, we gently place our folded hands on His big knees and implore Him to just pick us up and hold us for a little while to ease our aching hearts. And He will. He will gently pull us into His lap and we can place our little heads agains His chest and cry and tell Him all of our worries and fears. We can cuddle in His arms and if we let go enough and trust Him enough to hold us, we can even hear His heartbeat while our heads lie against His chest. And when we are done crying and feel consoled, He sets us back onto the ground, where we can pick up our crosses, feeling strengthened and loved.
God, I like to believe, is not some foriegn mass of being somewhere in the cosmos. He is a big Daddy who loves his sons and daughters. We may grow and suffer and become adults, but in the eyes our our Heavenly Father, we are always seven years old, still small enough for Him to pick us up and hold us when life gets us down. And when we are ready to carry on and pretend for the world that we are stong grown ups, we can get back down from His lap and carry on with our crosses. And these sufferings never end; they change and new ones come, but we are always suffering. And until life gets us down, our Dad is awaiting us in that little home, be it in our neighborhood or on our campus, until we come to climb back into His lap for more love.
So, while life may get us down, I pray that we never forget our Daddy sitting patienty in our Home waiting for us to come and cuddle for a little while. He is there, always.