As our 15-month-old son climbed up the stairs ahead of me, I came in close behind him to protect him from the possibility of falling. I couldn’t see his facial expression, but I could tell by the way he used his arms and pulled his legs up that he was determined to reach the top, determined to reach his daddy who was in our bedroom getting ready to leave for work.
‘Da-deee’, our son shouted out as he sounded out the letters.
Even though he was born in North Wales, the way he said ‘da-deee’ had quite a South Wales twang to it. Maybe that’s our influence, his parents, we were both born in South Wales, and had lived there for the best part of thirty years before moving as a family to North Wales.
He was just about to reach the top of the stairs, but, before he could get there, his ‘da deee’ peered from behind our bedroom door with his big smile that stretched across his handsome face. My husband’s smile was what I would call a ‘real smile’, not to discount other smiles, but it was one that filled a face and brought joy to your heart when you saw it. It had always stood out to me. It’s quite true that someone’s smile can have a huge impact on your day. I often think of this.
‘Hello Chappie, come here,’ my husband said as he crouched down to our son’s level and opened his arms out willing him on to come.
I could go on to say how ‘Chappie’, went straight into his father’s arms, and how their eyes locked together as they looked at each other dotingly. He did look at his daddy immediately, and gave him a huge smile, but on this occasion, he was distracted, and continued up the final steps of the stairs, then crawled straight over to the washing basket to play with a tag that hung from the inside of the basket cloth lining. You might be able to resonate with this. I’ve noticed that there is something about babies and tags, all my children have been fascinated with them.
My husband continued to call to him, ‘Come on Chappie, over here.’.
The way our son powered up the stairs enthusiastically with all intention to reach his daddy, then how his daddy saw him before he’d even reached the top, and how my son became so easily distracted by the tag, gave me a picture. I could visualise how my walk towards Jesus, my heavenly father can sometimes be. As I journey through each day, hoping to purposefully and diligently seek him, I am longing to seek his face, and reach him. Like my son using all his strength and determination to climb the stairs to reach his daddy, there are days when I feel like I’m climbing a mountain, but then, I am reminded that my father is ahead of me, he sees me first, he loved me first, and he is encouraging me towards the top. However, sometimes, just like our little boy with the tag, I get distracted and go off the path, but when that happens, I know that my father will be gently leading me back to him, not forcing me, but encouraging me onto the right path.
After just a short time, our son had reached a point of satisfaction and had studied the tag sufficiently. He stood up and walked over to his daddy to enjoy a cuddle.
He began to walk back and forth across the length of the bedroom floor, taking pleasure in plucking the strings of one of his father’s acoustic guitars at one end of the room. He had excellent precision and dexterity. My husband and I agreed that we were sure there was a resemblance of the Christmas Carol, ‘Away in a Manger’. Perhaps the wrong time of year, but impressive!
It was when I saw our little boy confidently, yet unsteadily walk back and forth that it happened. I was hit with an abundance of awe. Yes, I was in awe of our beautiful son that shone out brightly before my eyes, but I was also in awe of the very fact that he had been created, directing my focus towards his maker, God.
‘How?’, I said to my husband rhetorically. ‘How is he here?’
Of course, I knew how he came to be, but this morning the very thought of creation was beyond comprehension to me. My son had, without his own intention, implanted this magnified revelation through his presence.
I had sung to my son the words, ‘you are fearfully and wonderfully made’ from psalm 139, almost every day since he was born. I’d cradle him in my arms as he fell asleep. This morning, my heart is set on this psalm once more. This time, I think of the words, ‘you knit me together in my mother’s womb’, as I contemplate how each precious individual came to be and the enormity of it, the vast variety of each human being that I so take for granted each day. However, this day was different. Today I was thankful to see the light of Jesus more clearly.
I love the way that God speaks to my heart like this, it was a precious way to start the day, and I’ll mediate on it and on Jesus as I take each step, diligently and faithfully towards my maker.