“Moooommmmmm
. . .”
“Mom?”
“MOM!”
Too
many times to count, that’s how many.
Sometimes,
they don’t really need me. They call my
name just to check, to make sure I’m close enough, within earshot, ready to
lend a hand if necessary.
Sometimes,
they call for help. Fix something, Mom. Make something, tie something, clean
something, find something. They require
assistance, and they require it from me.
Sometimes,
they call because they want me to watch them do something, or show me something
already done. They need me to see, to notice,
to break from my life and focus on theirs.
The
truth? I can tune out my children quite
easily when they call my name and I know their request can probably wait. Almost eleven years into this incredible
journey of parenthood, perhaps it was inevitable that I would develop the ability
to ignore my own offspring in my often preoccupied state. I get busy doing whatever it is I think I
should be doing, and I put off responding to the one name I have heard more
than any others in the last decade, certain the ones calling it will move on
without me so I can continue in my busyness.
But
sometimes . . . sometimes one of my children will call my name with a tone in
their voice that begs nothing but immediate attention. You’ve heard that tone before, haven’t you? It has an intensity . . . an urgency to it
that you simply cannot ignore. You hear
it and instantly understand there is no time for delay - you must rush to answer the call. Nothing else matters when you hear your child
calling you like that. The world around
you fades to black and you drop everything, intent only to reach the one
calling, your sole purpose to be with him as quickly as possible.
Jesus
is calling your name like that, my friends.
He’s
calling mine too, and sometimes . . . most times . . . I choose to disregard
his call. I go on with my life as if whatever
I’m doing is more important than the most important thing in my life. And the craziest thing about my decision to
ignore the One who loves me most is the fact that Jesus doesn’t need me.
There is no emergency he can’t solve on his own. He isn’t asking for my comfort or my help or for
validation. He just wants me to sit at
his feet . . . and stay awhile.
Run.
To. Me.
That’s
his only request. So simple and sweet
and sacred.
An
invitation from my Savior. And the only response
it requires is that I show up.
Lord,
let me heed your call. Let me show up
when you whisper my name.
