Sometimes, I long to make this heart & soul & body stop moving long enough to lay my head against my God, and rest.
And I have to remind myself that Z is still so new at being in this world, because it feels like he's been here always. And wouldn't being new require a lot of moving and wrestling through some tough things, like figuring out how to crawl?
And then comes the self-reminding, that I'm still so new at being in this world but not of it, all eternal things considered. And doesn't this newness come with it's own set of things to wrestle through?
Even if it means the holding looks like wrestling, I delight in having Z in my arms.
Even if it means the holding looks like wrestling, maybe God feels the same about me?
Because really, if I'm in His arms it means I am His.
It is really inconceivable to think that God's arms do not tire like my arms tire of wrestle-holding twenty-one pounds of adorable, but heavy, baby-chunk.
Though I can't wrap my mind around how God never tires of wrestle-holding me, I am so thankful for it.