Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Daddy's arms...

When I was a little girl I was diagnosed with having rheumatic fever. The treatment was daily doses of penicillin and COMPLETE bedrest. The only time I was allowed out of bed was to go to the bathroom. This was my life for over three months. My days consisted of lying on the couch. I can still vividly remember the rough, scratchy, taupeish brown colored brocade fabric, it's swirly pattern being traced by my little fingers, over and over. My entertainment, mountains of books from the library four blocks up our street, sometimes my Barbie doll. I didn't understand this disease. I only knew it had something to do with my heart. No grown-ups took the time to talk to me, to explain that I would get better. So, in my 8 year old mind, I associated anything with the heart with all of the things I had ever heard about people dying from heart attacks. I was terrified each time I would lay my head against the pillow and hear my own heartbeat...terrified that I would actually hear it stop.

My mom, her love language being acts of service, brought me my meals, brought me those piles of library books, and continued doing all of the laundry, cooking and cleaning that it took to keep this household of 7 children functioning. My memories are of her somewhere in the house, or outside at the clothesline, but mostly my memories are of being there on that couch alone, while the noise of life was going on outside, somewhere else. Except for twice a day...first thing in the morning, and last thing every night, my dad carried me. In the morning, he carried me from my bed upstairs down to the couch, and at night, he carried me back up. And out of each 24 hours, those minutes were what I looked forward to, day after long, lonely day...the feeling of being carried in my daddy's arms.

I'm still often at that same place. Often in this world I feel like the noise of life goes on outside, while I am alone with my fears. Often, the love lanquage that other's speak to me, is not the one my heart wants, needs. To this day, books are often my mentors, my company, more than a flesh and blood person. And to this day, the best thing out of each long, and sometimes lonely day, is the time I let God, the Father, carry me.  I am learning to lay aside Bibles, journals, and prayer lists for a few moments, and in His presence, sit quietly and meditate on and recieve His love. In my heart, I just lean my head against Him, and rest, feeling loved, cared for, understood, cherished.   Because, no matter how loved I am by husband, children, grandchildren, family, friends, church's Daddy's arms I have longed for all of my life.

holy experience

Blog reposted and adapted for this Walk with Him Wednesday...


  1. Your words today have broken me... my daddy's arms were also the place I longed to be growing up - and today my best days are when I take the time to curl up, rest, and be healed in His arms. Thank you for sharing this - the reminder of my safe harbor.
    many blessings,

  2. This made me long for my own daddy's arms. He is with Jesus but I will never forget the safety and security that he always gave me.

  3. Sitting in my daddy's lap, feeling his arms around me was so comforting and my first picture of my heavenly father.
    Thank you for posting.
    Grace and peace

  4. Oh, my, Elizabeth! Your precious words brought tears to my eyes. I, too, have special memories of my Daddy and the time we had, just he and me! He died when I was 12 and that will be 50 years later this year. I know his tender touch and warm face against mine, even today.

    I am every so grateful that my Abba holds me and touches me in beautiful ways, closely and tenderly. Yes, taking time to spend with Him, in the stillness and quietness of the day is what we all need and don't do enough.

    Thank you for opening your heart to us today.
    Loving you, ~ linda

    PS ...I lived in Portland, OR in 1978-1982 (worked at Clackamas Community College) and Bend in 84-85. I miss the NW. I live in Portland, TX now. I used to say to my Portland, OR friends that I be back to Portland one day. I guess I should have stated which state too! At least this one is warmer than Maine!


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