ONE BY ONE KINDA LOVE

I can’t feel His love anymore.

At least, not lately.

Logically, deep in my bones, I know it's there. I have felt it, embraced it, survived on it, more times than I can count. I know it has carried me, when I no longer have the strength or desire to put my feet down and trod along.

I know He loves me.

And yet, right here and now, in this odd, in between period of my life, I can't feel it.

It just feels...empty. My cries, my pleas, seem unimportant, of no value, and useless. As I repeat the same requests, the same, burning desires of my heart, it almost seems as if there is no one there to hear me.

I feel completely and utterly lost, and wondering, "Where did He go?"

Amidst this small existential crisis occurring in my life, other priorities manifest. Unfortunately, these responsibilities make it impossible for me to just sit in my room and contemplate the meaning of life all day. There is work to do. Dogs to feed, runs to complete, and yes, activities for eight to eleven year old children to plan.

It's not exactly difficult to pick out which one of those would terrify me the most.

So, that's where I found myself just two Wednesday's ago. Scrambling to prepare an activity for a group of young girls, ignoring the chills even the thought of such sends ricocheting down my spine. One would have thought my fifteen years of babysitting a small pack of girls would have given me ample amounts of experience to draw from for such a task. But, alas, it had not.

With little enthusiasm and no talent to be seen for miles, I leaned against my kitchen counter, slapping together handouts. Not just handouts, oh no! The perfect, carefully calculated number of hideous handouts for the group of poor, helpless girls that would be placed in my care later that evening.

Sighing in exhaustion, and wearing a shaky smile of completion, I threw the very meticulously created handouts in a grocery bag. The job finished, I was all too ready to plop myself on the couch and lose myself in a book that did not include any semblance of entertaining children or wondering about one's place in this world. However, my victory plans were deterred when an irritating thought invaded my mind.

"Make another handout."

As a shock to none, my immediate response was a loving, gentle, "No."

Those type of thoughts, the one's from above, refuse to be ignored or bargained with.

"Make another handout."

"No. We only get like three girls each week, anyway. That leaves me two extra. That's plenty."

"Make another handout."

With the materials in front of me, and the voice from heaven clearly not backing down, I begrudgingly pasted together another handout for the nonexistent girl. And, with a smile, of course. Not all acting as if this was a waste of time and energy.

Please, withhold your votes for Worst Children's Leader of the Year until 2021 has reached its completion. Although it is quite obvious I am indeed a shoo in, we want to at least give the other competitors a fighting chance.

Because, guess what? That girl, the one I thought only existed in fantasy? She was real. And, she was there that night. Along with several other extras I had not accounted for. Making the total number of victims for my activity that night a nice, round six.

Six girls. Six handouts.

Completely and utterly equal, all thanks to a message from above.

Now, would the sweet, innocent child who ended up being an extra that night have been devastated had she not received a handout? Probably not. As stated before, they were not exactly created with love or any sense of talent.

But, she might have felt left out. She might have felt a little alone. She might have felt as if she didn't belong, or wasn’t supposed to be there.

But, she didn't. She didn't feel any of those things. Surrounded by her friends, she swung her handout high in the air, knowing, that she deserved to be there just as much as anyone else.

Because of Him.

Because His love, is a one by one kinda love.

His love is the type to inspire a cranky, unskilled leader to create one more handout, so His beloved, precious daughter would be sure to feel included.

His love is the type to prompt a mother to encourage her daughter to call her grandfather, gifting the girl one, last, perfect conversation with him, befire his mission on earth was completed.

His love is the type to continue to answer their prayers of a worried family, when their basset hound runs off again, and again, and again.

His love is one that is all encompassing, managing to magically mix itself into the details and biggest moments of life, to remind us just how cared for we really are. It warms us with joy when we see where it is has brought us. However, it also comforts us, sharing in our tears when things are tough, even though it can see the end from the beginning. Even with the successes in mind, the Lord still stops to cry with us, just as He did with Mary and Martha before raising Lazarus.

His time with us is not rushed, or squeezed into an appointed window when things are most convenient. It is always there, in every step we take, in every plea that exits our lips, in every extra handout that is made.

Every time we feel alone.

Because, even when we can't feel it, even when it seems as if it is not there at all, it is. It never leaves, it never wanders. Sometimes, when we feel it has pulled away, it is actually drawing us closer, allowing us to lean on Him even more than we ever thought possible.

However it manifests itself in the particular moment, there can be no doubt of its surety in our lives. One by one, minute by minute, second by perfect second, He loves us. Individually, whole-heartedly, and always.

His love is a one by one kinda love.

If it inspired the thought for an extra handout, how could it not be?