I dare you to linger

My son, the one with the tummy aches, and the needy arms,and the whining, whining, whining--he teaches me.

My son wants me.  He wants just me, not something I can do for him.   I’d rather draw him a picture, make him a tent, bake him 12 dozen cookies, but no. He wants me, there, sitting under him, present.  
Just me.

But I am a doer, a mover, and I find it so hard to just be; to just give me.

And later, my husband comes home, and I am glad to see him, in a way.  I am glad for the extra hands that can keep the kids out of the kitchen while I make dinner.  I’m glad for someone else to help referee; for someone else  who can help check something off my list for me.  It is often only later (if at all) that I remember him, that I delight in time with him, just him.

What is more important? The “stuff” I accomplish, or the people around me?  The people, of course, and yet, how often do I trample over them for the sake of the “getting stuff done?”  

Furthermore (sin upon sin!) this addiction to productivity spills over into my prayers.  When I remember, I ask God for little things, like patience, and daily bread.  He helps, and I use those gifts to get stuff done. When I am desperate, I ask Him for bigger things, like forgiveness, and redemption. And He gives those things, too.  And I take things in my greedy hands, and I move on, as quickly as I can, to get stuff done. 

It is rare for me to linger with God.

But our Father is patient with us, and He invites us to linger.  

As John Kleinig explains,

“When we knock at the door of our parent’s house, they don’t ask us what we want; they invite us in. Like our parents, God the Father opens the door for us when we come to ask Him for something and lets us in.  Therefore we don’t just get something from God when we pray; we receive God the Father, His company, and life with Him. That is the unexpected bonus of prayer.” (Grace Upon Grace p. 165).

God- our good, kind Father- He hears our prayers, and gives so much more. He invites us in. 

He gives us His very Self.

Father, teach me to pray.

Teach me to receive.

Teach me to linger.

Amen.

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This is the third post in this month's series: 

Grow Backward with Me

Will you (re)learn how to be a child with me?

I double-dog dare you.

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You may also enjoy my published works:

Weak and Loved (A Mother-Daughter Love Story) 

an inspirational story of God’s grace

 Tend to Me (Devotions for Mothers)

 for Mothers who tend to everyone else— May Jesus Himself Tend to YOU. 

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Do you find it hard to "linger?"

Share your thoughts with me in the comments!