I you?

I you?

Those two words never fail to stop me in my tracks. I know that when I look behind I will see big, brown eyes, pleading with me. Two pudgy, outstretched arms. A quivering bottom lip thrown in for dramatic effect.

So I turn. Slowly. Sometimes reluctantly.

And I say, "What, Em? You wanna come with me?"

The patter of her feet always answers. She runs to me, eyes now beaming, stares up - way up, since at the gargatuan height of 5'4", I usually tower over most 2 year olds - and waits, chubby arms still outstretched.

I whisk her into my arms, and she laughs in delight.

She is coming. Her plea has been heard. And she is coming.

I look down at her wispy head, which is cuddled against my shoulder, and wonder...

Is this how God feels about us?

He stands, waiting, watching, as self-sufficient human forms mill about below. They know the right things to do, the right things to say, the right way to live - life is good.

Then the unthinkable happens...a child dies. A young life taken far too soon. A job is lost. A good family turned out on the streets.

And self-sufficiency dies. Articulate people lose the ability to speak, for there are no words to say.

At wit's end, they finally look up - and see the waiting form of the Father.

"Father," comes the broken whisper. "Abba. Daddy...I you?"

The Father hears the simple words - but He hears so much more. Father, will you help me, guide me, teach me, strengthen me. Take me with you. I want you, love you. Father...

"I you?"

The Father slowly turns...but His slowness is not from reluctance. He is savoring this moment, the cry of His child for His presence and closeness. A smile breaks across His face, and He sweeps the weary form into His arms.

And life regains meaning.