One of the best parts of my day is when my husband gets home from work. In the past, I have looked forward to 5:45 PM as the time at which my relief pitcher comes into the game. I focused on the time Elian got home like a woman in labor chooses an object to fix her gaze on as she “breathes” through contractions. (Is that even possible? Moms, did any of you actually use a focal point? Or breathing techniques? I think these are just things Hollywood invented. My labors consisted of focusing on things like “Why isn’t my epidural working yet?”, and my breathing technique went inhale-scream-inhale-cry-inhale-try not to black out from the pain. Never once did Lamaze cross my mind. I digress.)
Lately, my selfish reasons for counting down the seconds until my husband walks through the door have become much less about me. Although 5:45 PM still remains one of my favorite times of the day, the reason why has changed. As soon as Elian opens the door, two little girls drop everything and run to him with squeals of delight, both trying to get the first hug from their daddy.
Yesterday, Lexi was sitting in the recliner looking at a toy she’d gotten in her kids’ meal at lunch, and Allie was sitting on the floor playing with a shape sorter. The back door squeaked open. Lexi dropped her toy on the floor, hopped out of the chair as fast as she could and went running to greet her daddy. Allie threw the shape sorter aside, clambered to her feet, shrieking and repeating “Da-dee! Da-dee! Da-dee!” as she toddled into the kitchen as fast as her legs would take her. Both girls stood at Elian’s feet with their arms outstretched and their little faces looking up.
For a split second, my husband froze, clearly excited to see his girls, but unsure who to scoop up first. What a magnificent dilemma to have. In that moment my heart was filled with gladness for my husband. Mommies get to experience being the delight of their little ones often. It kind of comes with the territory. Daddies usually get the shaft because they don’t get to spend as much time with the kids. And Elian has certainly gotten his fair share of neglect from the girls. But everyday, when he comes home from work, he can count on them being thrilled to see him. He is more important than toys, cartoons, and even Mommy at 5:45 PM. I love it for him. And I am thankful to get to witness this interaction between Daddy and daughters each day.
Jesus says we are to come to Him just as my girls run to their daddy. Jesus wants us, His children, to delight in being with Him more than any other person or thing, to trust Him implicitly, and to experience Him embracing us and blessing us. He wants nothing to hinder our loving Him and receiving His love.
Do you experience Jesus this way? Today choose to make him more important than your toys (material possessions), your cartoons (activities), and your mommy (earthly relationships). You won’t be disappointed. And, more importantly, neither will your Daddy.