One time, when I was pretty young-- I would say 3 or 4 years old, I had a meltdown in a restaurant. The kind of meltdown that caused people to stare at my parents and debate calling child services. Mind you, I was a content child. I wasn't one to cause a scene.
What caused my meltdown?
My mom stole a french fry off my plate.
I was devastated. I could not understand why she would do such a thing!
I don't remember what happened to calm the situation, but knowing how my mom has handled my meltdowns since, I bet it looked something like this:
First, since it was merely a french fry she probably struggled to suppress her laughter. Second, I'm sure I ended up on her lap---I'm a bit of a cuddler. Want to calm me down? Hug me. Shuts me up pretty quickly. Third, I imagine she brushed my hair out of my face (it's always in my face) and reassured me, "It's okay, I love you."
I've been blessed with loving parents and so that helps me understand how God loves and parents me.
I am still an outwardly emotional person--- I'm a crier. If I'm overwhelmed in anyway--be it for happy or sad reasons--- the waterworks start flowing. Sometimes a bunch of things have built up over time and my heart and my head explode with thoughts and feelings and the debris comes out through my eyes.
And so, God meets me at my breaking point. He has always met me there, and by that I mean, he patiently waits for me while I finish trying to make every last effort to handle life on my own. I'm so stubborn sometimes.
But then I surrender, defeated. I have lost the lonely battle for and unintentionally against myself.
And I'm met with a peace that surpasses all understanding.
And I feel a familiar, "It's okay, I love you," softly resounding in my soul.
