Open Arms

Anders has this thing he likes to do in his bedtime routine: it usually happens after we're done reading books, doing our devotion and saying prayers, when it's time for hugs and kisses. He'll say, "Just a minute . . . . I forgot something." Then he'll leave the room and come running back, jumping into my "unsuspecting" arms.

Nils has picked up on it lately. He's not as subtle about it, but it's still heart-warming just the same. They did it a few times during a commercial during Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer tonight.

In some ways it reminds me of Jesus' parable of the Lost (Prodigal) Son (not that I'm equating myself with the father in that story, or that my boys are prodigals). I just see God welcoming his children in the same way that I wait for my boys: with arms wide open, awaiting their arrival, smiling when they come.

I also suspect that God loves it when we come running to him like my boys do to me. They come with a huge smile on their face, giggling as they leap at me. I have a hard time getting beyond my reserved, Scandinavian upbringing to picture myself doing that with God. But the image is desirable. I want to be that kid, running with abandon into the arms of God. I know I can, and I know He'll be waiting for me.