She crawls toward me; seven months of baby perfection. She’s clumsy, slow, but I don’t mind.
I watch in amazement as she’s growing, changing, and it’s right in front of me.
I hope what she sees as she comes toward me is a joyful mama’s face, always welcoming, always hopeful, full of grace. Grace to grow, grace to change. You see, I’m trying to crawl too; trying to get these knees moving.
My daughter has it right. She looks toward Mama, motivated by love, hers and mine. She trusts me. How often my eyes stray from the Father, I get distracted, frustrated, tired. I don’t trust his intentions toward me; I don’t rest in his love.
If only I would set my gaze on his ever-glowing countenance; the face of a joyful Father cheering me on. He doesn’t mind when I get clumsy, doesn’t mind when I’m slow. He just bids me, come.
“Let us [crawl]…fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”