Receiving God’s Love When You Can’t Measure Up

I rush in to start my shift in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. One of my patients is a school aged child whose name means Powerful and Mighty. Her chronic illness prevents her from walking, communicating and performing any of her basic needs. She is non-verbal, not ambulatory, and I thought unable to connect on a personal level because of her limitations. And complications from this illness land her in our unit from time to time.

Powerful and Mighty’s middle aged father lingers silently at her bedside most of the day. Parents of kids with chronic illnesses ooze longsuffering.

Nursing staff tries to connect with dad. His responses are short. He resists eye contact.

My bedside manner is void. Kindness boomerangs back to me. Small talk is worthless. My puny understanding assumes the communication gap between father and nurse is gender related.

The cultural chasm feels so vast. It’s impassable.

What happens next unhinges my worldview.

I peel back the curtain and silently cross the threshold to administer medications through a small tube in her belly. Dad is leaning in, stroking her forehead, and whispering into Little Powerful and Mighty’s ear.

My pace slows to a stop.

“You are my heart and you are my soul. You are my heart and you are my soul.” He whispers in the tone only heard when daddies communicate with their little girls.

I slip out unnoticed, preserving this holy interaction.

Past the threshold, I pause. I realize I’m still holding my breath. A wall of stereotype crumbles around me. I see this loving father in this moment.

I secretly wonder if God would ever whisper that to me. That deep familiar ache is rising to the surface. Could a Father’s love ever find its home with me?

Barriers

But a wall still exists in me. One I erected.

The wall is built of bricks of sacrifice, hours of prayer, days of fasting, and other ‘good’ deeds.
I tuck my bad temper, food binges, and limitations as a mom behind the shadow of this wall.
I present to God and others what I think they want to see.

But God has x-ray vision. Our weaknesses are always in plain sight. Yet, His love doesn’t punish us or pull back when we are at our weakest. He always whispers, “you are My heart and you are My soul.”

Our beautiful girl in the intensive care unit was loved, not because of or in spite of her chronic illness. Her utter existence beckoned her dad close. He waited with her. Unrushed.

He whispers his love to her in the stillness.

Your Song

Can you hear his song over you today? When I peek out from behind the fake images I build of myself I see Him there. He’s grooving to His love song for me.

No flicker of disappointment casts shadows over his smile. And no gnarled finger wags in my face.

His eyes glitter with love. His voice even cracks with emotion as I turn toward Him.

You are loved.

Maybe His song for you is more like a silky soul tune or a swanky country jam. Heavy metal? It could happen.

Let’s take a break from the fear of not measuring up. Let Him take our hands and lead us out from behind those images we project of ourselves.

The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing. (Zephaniah 3:17)