Roosters and Thunder and a Busy Momma: A Picture of Clinging

"My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me."  Psalm 63:8

A couple of weeks ago, CJ, Moses, and I went to visit the chickens next door.  CJ loved it--noticing the colors of their feathers; inquiring if those chickens had batteries; helping Matt, our next door neighbor, feed the chickens (which meant throwing feed at the chickens, which he found quite hysterical); etc.

Moses, however, didn't like it so much.  He would have been fine if one of the roosters hadn't kept crowing at us.  He was perfectly happy looking at those strange creatures in the pen...until...COCK-A-DOOLE-DOO!  He jumped with his whole body, then grabbed at me and my clothes with his hands and arms and squeezed me as tightly as he could with his little legs, turning his face into my shoulder.  Just as quickly he settled down and was happy again...then another crow, another hold-on-for-dear-life.

Then I got the brilliant but not-so-kind idea to see what would happen if I set him down.  So I put him in the grass at my feet.  He sat happily enjoying the outdoors...then...COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!  He whirled around with a cry and frantically tried to climb up my legs.  I scooped him up...and instantly, he was happy again.

He was scared.  So he clung.  And he was comforted.

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A few days after that, I was rushing to get the boys ready and out the door for Wednesday night prayer meeting.  I sat on the floor in front of CJ, wrestling socks and shoes onto his feet.  Moses, who had just been woken up by a loud storm outside, was cranky and wanted me.  He stood at my side, then behind me, then at my other side, then behind me, pulling at my shirt and my shoulders and even my hair and fussing.  He continued to make his unhappiness quite clear as I filled sippy cups and grabbed diapers and wet wipes and Cheerios; he crawled around after me, fussing and grasping at my pant legs anytime he got close enough.

Figuring he was cranky from being woken up too early, I sighed and tried my best to persevere through the inconvenient interruptions, lest we be late for church (being on time is so much more important than taking the time to suck in a slow breath and calm the frenzy...right?).  Just then, Micah appeared, and I begged him to take Moses so I could finish getting ready.

Then, in the car on the way to church, I finally took the time to take that slow breath...and realized that poor Moses had been scared of the booming thunder and whipping wind outside.  He wasn't simply cranky.  He was scared.  He wanted his mommy.

He wanted to cling.  But I was too busy.

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Moses knows what clinging looks like.   Every so often, he models it for me--grabbing onto me, or whatever part of me he can reach (legs, clothes, hair, etc.), with any and all parts of his body he can use (hands, arms, legs....), and as persistently as the situation calls for (like when I pull away and rush off to grab those Cheerios...and then a pair of tiny Crocs...oh, yeah, and better slap on a little makeup...and try not to trip over the baby!).

I'm supposed to cling like that...to my Savior.  When I'm scared...or hurt...or struggling...or lonely...or longing...or even happy.  My soul is to cling to my sweet Jesus.  In any and every way I can.  As persistently and continuously as I can.

When Moses clings (or wants to cling), I don't always uphold him like he wants me to.  Sometimes my "right hand" is too busy with other things.

But my Jesus is never too busy.  He'll never push me away (or set me down at His feet just to amuse Himself at my reaction the next time the rooster crows).  He is always there.  Any and every time I cling, for as long as I cling, His mighty right hand will always uphold me.

"[Jesus] being the brightness of His glory and the express image of His person, and UPHOLDING ALL THINGS [including me!] by the word of His power..." (Hebrews 1:3)

More thoughts on clinging tomorrow.