keystrokes

This happens. Frequently.

It started a few weeks ago, when Avivah was having a particularly touch-hungry day and Mommy was up against a deadline. I couldn’t ignore her incessant pleas for a “guggle” (a.k.a. snuggle), so I did what I do way too often and tried to squeeze her needs into the empty place on my lap/hip/mattress/countertop while I continued working.

A few minutes later I realized her hands were on top of mine, resting so lightly I wasn’t sure exactly when she’d put them there. I almost shook them off, afraid she was about to start banging keys, but I sensed that gentle, internal whisper - just loud enough to be heard over the buzzing checklist in my overextended brain. It said, “Slow down and give her a minute. She’s not hurting anything.”

So I slowed down. I didn’t stop, mind you (heaven forbid). I kept typing, but at a slower speed, and I felt her fingers reaching for the rhythm. Tap for tap the pressure of her fingertips echoed mine as she attempted to mimic each keystroke.

Yes, I know. Prime fodder for some profound, introspective post about how behavior is caught rather than taught. I could go on (with angst) about my kids’ recent outbursts of temper and unabashed selfishness, which saddle me with shame because I know their sinful little hearts are just walking as Mommy walks. But God didn’t use this anecdote to further burden my self-condemning heart. Instead, He gave me this:

I want to ride on God’s hands. Where His fingers touch, move, wash, and mold, I want to be there, shadowing His motions. Loving as He loves. Forgiving as He forgives. Giving as He gave.

And you know what gets me? He doesn’t need my help any more than I need Avivah’s finger strength to help me type, but He allows me to come along anyway. More than that, He invites me, even longs for me to join him, to lay my weak little hands on top of His infinitely strong ones and do my feeble, uncoordinated best to mimic every stroke.

May I always be touch-hungry for God. His hands, His lap.

I can’t think of a better place to guggle.