The Arms of God

It seems like only an evening ago that I sat on my three-year old daughter’s bed, holding her in my arms. We had finished reading Little Bear and Emily and I sang her favorite lullabies. Silently, I rocked her, thanking God for the exquisite pleasure a little girl brings–soft pink pajamas and fresh washed hair. The half -moon smiled through the lace curtains as secret tears slid down my cheeks. I cried for the little girl in me that did not have stories and lullabies.

Suddenly, the little one in my lap turned her head and held my chin in both of her tiny hands to make sure she had my full attention.

“Mama, when I am in your arms and I am loving you, your arms feel like God’s arms. I know He loves me.”

In one instant the empty memories became full of meaning. The sadness replaced with awe.

It is incredible to find oneself in the arms of God, no doubt. But to be the arms of God?!  This is beyond incredible. It is pure grace!

Who dreams of becoming the arms of God? At times we all feel so small and of little importance.

It is never a small thing to be the arms of God.