Photo courtesy of speedy2
“You. You over there in the black leggings and gray sweater. The one in the colorful scarf with the weary eyes and the schedule that includes this from 9:30 until 10:30 then this from 10:45 until 11:30 and this from 11:45 until 1 and so on and so on and so on, ” she hears.
She stops. Is it official? Has she finally lost her mind? Is she hearing voices?
“Yes, you,” He reveals again.
“I see you.”
She serves a God who sees.
He sees the heart behind what she tries to do in a day and He leads – gently, slowly, with grace.
He sees the heart behind what she tries to do in a day and He disciplines, pokes the rod a bit, until she hears His lesson. Until it finally sinks in and she begins to examine.
He sees the schedule that is too tight, the one that will cause someone to be unhappy because sometimes it’s just never enough.
He sees the owner of the schedule He’s been calling to edit, to release, to let go of the feeling that everyone must be happy with her so she tries to do it all and in doing so just does so much less.
He sees the weariness. The little that’s left for the very ministry that is the most important to her in the first place.
He sees the heart shrink when the toddler asks if they can just stay home and play. He sees the joy stolen a bit when the older two fight over stuff that in the end, is just stuff.
He sees the cloud of guilt that forms above her head when she lets the inevitable ball drop and He sees that she simply can’t juggle them all.
He sees that this is an matter of pride. That she thinks she’s the one to do the job and so she does it, to the detriment to her family, to her soul, to Him.
He sees her discover that she can fill her days with all that is good but with a result that is not.
He sees a child he loves who is slow to learn, who may never “grow up”, who will continue to miss appointments, who will let her husband down with a forgotten meal, who will fail to remember it was a day for gym shoes. He sees a child who is scolded by the receptionist, criticized by someone in the ministry she serves, and told in so many words, that she is not enough.
He sees a child who just needs to know that she is worthy of taking up the small space on this earth that she does.
He sees a child who is enough – even though she doesn’t think that she is.
He sees a child who is growing, who is learning to release what others think, who is realizing that her eyes need to gaze back at Him constantly and not just sometimes.
He sees a child that needs Him so desperately that she sometimes forget that she does.
So He goes on seeing and goes on loving and goes on with the rod and watches in grace and sometimes amusement and likely needs to wipe away a tear now and then and in the end, just acts like the Father He is.
He sees His lost lamb and He lights the path home.
And quietly, she goes.
“…You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me…” – Genesis 16:13