Sunday, February 9, 2014

Hide And Seek

Sooooooo…before I unpack the thoughts in my head that prompted this post, umm, remember last week when I was talking about how Butterbean moved out of my house?


She's back.

I know.  If you listen closely you can hear the metallic clickety-clack of the cars on this roller coaster lining up to take yet another plunge into that happy little place I like to call Dante's Inferno.

Oh wait, is that name taken?


Without going into tons of details here, let me make clear that Butterbean and her baby brother Buster are both safe, loved, and well-cared for by their mom and dad.  It's just that their mom and dad are young, and as such, they don't yet have the benefit of the wisdom that comes with age and experience.

Plus, I apparently haven't learned all I need to learn about God through Butterbean and Buster.  So He's decided to give me another crack at it.

And since misery loves company I'm a generous soul, how's about hopping in the car and suffering thru a minor case of whiplash with me as we barrel towards this coaster's first incline?  Oh come on.  Suck in that gut and push down the safety bar!  It'll be fun.  I promise.

So yeah.  Butterbean.  And me.  And God.  Together again.

Butterbean is two now and one of her favorite night-time rituals is to be up on my lap, snuggled into her  "pinka" (that's 'Beanspeak for 'blanket') rocking slowly back and forth in the glider.

And I confess, I don't exactly dislike that time with her.

Tonight, prior to the 'pinka' and the rocking and resultant snuggle-fest, Butterbean and I ended up in an impromptu game of hide and seek.

As in, I needed to go to the bathroom and what with Butterbean's affection for me, my bid for 5 minutes of privacy entails some Bond-like maneuvers that would make Jason Bourne weep with unrestrained envy.

'Cause y'all…Butterbean is just that good.

She knows my buttons and pushes them with all the accompanying joy and abandonment she can muster.

Plus, it doesn't help much when your heart turns into a whimpering pile of goo at the mere hint of oncoming cute-ness.

So…hide and seek.  I was hiding.  She was seeking.  And for once, I managed to elude her for a minute.

Y'all I can't even describe the feelings of absolute delight listening to that little voice as she conversed with her mother while she tried to find me.  I had such a time not giving myself away with my giggles as she searched the laundry basket looking for me.  (Bless her heart for thinking my behind could fit into it.)

Just hearing her say "Mimi" and ask her Mommy in 'Beanspeak where I was sent little jolts of happy into my system.  To say that my heart belongs to her is an understatement.

Now, I fully intended to reveal myself to Butterbean.  But the deliciousness of listening to her little mind work as she searched for me, and the anticipation of the look on her face when I came out of hiding…it was worth the effort of concealment.

If you have a beloved child in your life, perhaps you've played this game.  Because you know how precious the sound of those little feet running toward you are, how irreplaceable the sight of those little arms flung open wide as they move toward you in expectation of hugs, how indescribable it is to feel those little lips as they press against your cheek in a kiss, how the scent of that tiny head obliterates your heart as you are wrapped in the most joyous embrace.

It's during these types of moments that the Holy Spirit will speak to me.  Nothing profound.  Nothing earth-shattering.  Most often, it's just little flashes of 'aha' moments.

Tonight I thought, "No wonder.  No wonder He sometimes hides Himself."

If the way I feel about my Butterbean is the palest shade of grey in comparison to the incomprehensible rainbow of His feelings toward me…then it is no wonder.

And it makes me all the more eager to find Him.

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for sharing your nugget of revelation, it was beautiful and deep. So glad you are writing again.