I think I have mentioned before that my littlest boy, Micah, and I love to pretzel. In the predawn darkness we snuggle it out in mommy and daddy’s bed after he wakes up. When I have to quit the warm comfort of the bed and get ready for the day, he comes with me. Stuffed bear clutched in one hand and stuffed puppy in the other. Pacie firmly in place, he toddles after me squinting into the bright bathroom lights and I plop him down on top of the toilet lid. It’s his morning spot. He sits there to be with me. Whatever I am doing.
He doesn’t know what my day holds or how stressed I may be about an upcoming meeting. He doesn’t understand what I will be up to when I am away from him. He only knows that the early morning is his. And he will not be deterred from the toilet seat, where he sits and narrates everything that I do.
“Mama, showa” – Yes, honey, mommy is going to take a shower now.
“Mama, bwush teef” – Yes, Micah, do you want to brush teeth too?
“Mama, shorts?” – Thank you honey, yes, pass me my pants, I’m going to get dressed now.
He is my morning dialogue.
It’s intimate, the two of us in the darkness, and the rosy glow of the new day. Between the mundane tasks of getting ready for work there is this little island of bliss. And it’s seated on top of our toilet.
Micah knows that to spend time with me he needs to meet me where I am. And in the mornings, I am in the bathroom.
These last few days I have wanted to be close to God like that. I have wanted to hold out my hand to Him and follow His routine and see what He is up to. There have been a few events in particular that I watched from my perch in the comfort of His presence that made me as giddy as Micah with a bottle of milk in one hand and a pacifier in the other.
Two moms took the long walk of courage down a hospital corridor to hand over their children for heart surgery. A baby many of us have read about and loved from afar and a little nine-year-old-girl with a beautiful heart that needed fixing. As I read about the intricate procedures and the surgeons who understand the art and science of the heart I was awed by the God who designed it.
This is the God who is as much in Michigan as He is in Minnesota as He is in Africa. He is with us as mothers and He is with us as wives. And he understands the dark seasons of the heart and He is the only one who can give us the strength to move forward. He is the God of mourning and of dancing.
And of dancing.
Because sometimes we forget that part. We take our troubles to Him and our celebrations elsewhere. But this week, I got to witness a group of people get downright giddy for what our God can do. They get it. They get that He is the God of our intimate moments – happy, sad, angry and inbetween. He is the God of our highs and lows. He is the God of our commutes and our bathroom routines.
And it makes me want to wrap my arms around the Internet and yell, “God loves you and you and you and ME!” If you are having trouble remembering that this morning, go and read the links above and then come back here and yell it right back at me, ’cause I sure need to hear it as often as possible “God loves US!”
In the midst of our frustrations and chaos and hurts and eyes squinted against the bright light of all that’s coming at us that we don’t understand. God loves us. And it makes me want to get up from where I am and toddle after Him, so I can be part of His routine. Because this week I was reminded again, it’s anything but.
Oh my. This made me cry. I loved every word of it. I need to mull it over and then come back and read it again. Thank you.
Well, then we’re even. Because you made me cry last week with your courage and story of Chloe’s beautiful heart!
What a beautiful post! My 2 year old does the same morning routine with me!! So I could picture every word you were saying. Have a blessed day knowing and rejoicing in the fact that GOD LOVES YOU!!! Unfailingly. (Psalm 147:11)
My little morning companion will be two in December. I LOVE this age. So full of first words and new beginnings of personhood!
What a great metaphor! And so true…so very, very true!
This was simply beautiful! I want to be intimate with God like that too. I’m amazed by His love!
It’s so easy to forget his hand is just right there – waiting for us to grab a’hold. Having kids has taught me this more than anything else.
Thanks for sharing this post with us today…you’re inspiring!
Aww… fantastic!
Lovely, thanks TGM!
This is so beautiful, from start to finish! Your mornings sound downright delightful, and thanks for the reminder ;)
Thanks for stopping by – and yes, who’d have thought the bathroom could be such a great hang out space, eh?
i love this. every single word. i wasn’t quite sure what to expect… with a title like this! but how precious… thank you. and the vision… of toddling after God… makes me wantt o pick up my blanky and get going!
Thank you for coming to read despite the title ;) But the bathroom and the toilet seat have taken on a special place in my heart and taught me a lot about waiting in seemingly odd places for the Lord. And I am all for toddling after him now, blankie in hand!
I like the image of toddling after God too. Great post! First time I’ve stopped by, but will be back. Thanks for visiting my blog too and your comment!
I love the moments when it’s just one of my girls and I in the bathroom. Every time I walk that way, my youngest says, “I wanna go wit you, Mommy.” And I always say, “Well, you just come on, girlfriend.” I love that sweet time with her.
To think that our God loves that time with us in the same way.
Love that mental image, “Well, you just come on, girlfriend.” What fun – I can hear it in your voice!
He is the God of the dancing that will follow my mourning. He is the music and the rhythm; He is my dance-partner.
I can’t wait to hear the song start to play.
But if I quiet my tears, I think I can already hear it ever so faintly.
[thank you for the link. and the reminder that yes, only He can give me the strength to move forward… and to dance, even with tears still in my eyes.]
With your feet standing on his – like a little girl with her dad – He will take the lead and lift you into the dance even when you can’t. And even if it’s behind the bathroom door. He loves us wherever we are. I know you know this already. I’m just agreeing.
This was beautiful… even more so considering what the title led me to expect. Heh.
Yea, I’m sneaky like that.
You brought back memories of my childhood when I would spend mornings in the bathroom talking to my mom as she got ready.
Funny, now that you mention it – I used to do the same thing with my mom. The most sacred spots in the house, the bathroom and the kitchen, right?
Beautiful story and message. Lovely post.