On The Other Side Of The Door

This post was originally published in August, 2014.

 

Ask any mother and she will tell you about the preciousness of a few minutes alone.
Alone just to gather your thoughts.
Alone to grab a shower in peace.
Alone to have a cup of tea and read a paragraph in a book uninterrupted.

Alone does not mean instead of being with her children.
Alone does not mean trading in motherhood for her single life again.
Alone does not mean that she loves her family any less.
Alone simply means stillness in the midst of busyness.

One of my daughters has a barbecue every year right before the school year begins.
Many of her friends who are teachers are there.
Many of her friends from college are there.
The barbecue is at our house since her apartment cannot accommodate everyone.

Some of her friends are married and some have children of their own.
Watching these young parents warms my heart.
Each child is so unique; each child’s expressions and mannerisms are much like their parents.
I enjoy hearing their stories.

I heard about the things these young moms will do in order to grab a few moments alone.
I heard stories about taking a shower while their child naps.
I hear tales of taking quick showers while talking or singing to their child the entire time.
Just to let them know, I’m still there.

I remember it well.

With each of my five pregnancies, I had morning sickness.
Morning sickness every morning for three months.
The early morning was difficult since the other little ones needed me.
I remember not feeling well and trying to get their breakfast.

Nibbling on a cracker sometimes helped.
Most mornings, I would be downstairs in a powder room until I felt better.
That is when it happened.
Inevitably someone got up and came downstairs to find Mommy.

They learned pretty quickly where they could find me.
They would knock on the door and ask if they could have pancakes or cereal.
They would knock on the door and I would try to answer them in a pleasant voice.
As if to make sure I knew they were there, they would stick their fingers under the door.

Little fingers came under the door, wiggling hello to me.
I would hear the patter of more feet, followed by giggles and whispers.
Soon there would be another set of hands wiggling their fingers under the door.
Guess who? I would hear.

It would make me smile.
Those precious little fingers wiggling under the crack in the door.
Mommy, are you in there?
Mommy, can you see me?

I would try to play a game with them and click my fingers across the bathroom floor.
They would anticipate me coming to grab their fingers.
They would pull their fingers away and giggle even harder.
Just a few minutes peace; just a few minutes to be alone and be sick if needed.

Those wiggling fingers somehow refined me.
This fleeting time of morning sickness would end.
On the other side, after a nine-month wait, there was a child.
A child with wiggling fingers who needed me.

My children were not left alone or abandoned.
I was simply on the other side of the door.
I heard them when they called to me.
I answered even with the door between us.

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks the door will be opened. (Matthew 7:7,8)

God is on the other side of the door.
We, His children, are not left alone or abandoned.
God is the God who hears.
God is the God who sees.

We are all children.
God, are you in there?
God, can you see me?
In desperation, we wiggle our fingers to get His attention.

We cry out in our anguish.
We whisper to Him when we can barely speak.
We do anything for Him to notice us.
We want Him to open the door.

God is not a Father who desires His alone time.
God desires to be with His children.
For now, our conversations with God in prayer are on the other side of the door.
For now.

God answers the cries of His children.
God answered with a Baby.
A Baby that was born with wiggling fingers of His own.
A Baby who would one day call out to his own, Abba.

Daddy, are you there?
Daddy, are you listening?
Why, Daddy?
Daddy?

We wiggled our fingers and God answered with wiggling fingers of His own.
In a pleasant voice He answered, This is My Son, whom I love. Listen to Him. (Mark 9:7)
See His fingers wiggling?
See the nail marks on His hands?

I hear you.
I see you.
One day soon, I will open the door.
There will never be a door between us again.

One day.
In the meantime, we continue wiggling our fingers.