A tattered spiderweb

When a child hurts, she runs to her parent and cries. When a parent hurts, she becomes a child, runs to The Father and cries.

I am a parent that this morning hurt like a child. I was disappointed and angry. At best effort falling short, at concern mistaken for something else, at choosing without thinking what seemed like the right thing.

This is not the first of such instances. My usual reaction was to sulk and sweat and wallow in self pity. And this morning, I did the usual, but only momentarily. Instantaneously, I found myself running to The Father in pain and in tears. Just as suddenly, I was rebuked by the thought that this must have been how The Father felt each time I failed to see the good He intended for me. How badly He must have felt when I rashly went off on my own without caution or chose the other way even if I knew He meant nothing short of the best.

In that instance, pain served its purpose. Images of a good Father's hurting heart brought me back to my senses. How the many blows from me must have transformed it into something very much like a tattered spiderweb.

This morning's episode was a Master's stroke that transformed what to me were ugly into something positive and beautiful.

What an awesome God and loving Father You are that you speak to me not only in the sunshine and the smell of morning. Or in the moonlight and the stars. Or in the breeze, the rain and the ocean waves. Or through the guava tree outside my window and the chirping birds in its branches. Or the people around me and those far from me. But also through something as searing as pain and as disfigured as a tattered spiderweb.