“I just want to be in your heart, I just want to be in your arms, moving ever closer to your heart.”
Miller was just playing that on the guitar (thanks, Miller!) as I’m sitting here in our converted classroom/conference room/office/lounge, and it beautifully sums up what I’ve been praying about this evening. I just want to love God. Really. That’s it. The more I know of God, the more I want to know of Him.
Sometimes I feel discouraged, because I know that I will never be able to love Him enough. But I think that I’m learning that there’s a beauty in that—learning that my imperfections somehow turn out beautiful in His eyes. It reminds me of when I was a little girl, and I would make something for my parents out of old strawberry crates, or macaroni noodles, or clay and beads (there were a lot of those); I don’t think anyone would necessarily call that art. But I had taken what I had and tried to turn it into something beautiful to give back to those who loved me first, and even though it was a far cry from beauty when compared to other things, my parents knew that my little hands and heart tried, and that was what mattered. Acts of love, no matter how imperfect, no matter how unpracticed, how unsophisticated, never go unnoticed. And just like there is something so beautiful and pure in a child handing you a page of multicolored scribble that they drew “just for you,” all of our little acts of love are gathered up by God and kept as keepsakes and treasures.
I want my life to be one big scribble-fest, a series of little art projects for my Father; and hopefully I can hand Him something new every day.