resting in loving arms

Beverly and Daddy, in the kitchen a long time ago.
Hope you'll forgive me for not asking permission, Dad.

I don't know how kosher it is to tell other people that you read the book they loaned you while sitting in the bathroom, but here's a quotation from a lovely book that came to live with me for a while after a leisurely conversation with my neighbors in their living room. Because it's so good I decided to buy it on Amazon for a penny. Thank you, neighbors. I had clean hands while reading! (Sorry my purchase is not bringing in any more money for you, Wendy Wright. You deserve it).

It is hard for any of us truly to accept our own vulnerability and insufficiency--both for each other and for God. Parents, it seems to me, are especially prone to harbor illusions of self-sufficiency. We who care for the young, who are called to be providers, shelterers, healers, teachers and question-answerers for our children easily forget our own neediness. We forget that we too are children whose hearts must be open, trusting and in need of God's deep embrace where all joy, all suffering is felt and borne. We must discover our true childhood so that we can return home, seeking those arms.

It is an art--a profoundly spiritual art--to learn to 'lean into' or live consciously one's own need for God and others. Part of that art involves discernment of the seeming 'needfulness' that is rooted not in love of God but in self-deprecation. Deep within the divine embrace the self is always recognized as infinitely precious, worthy of dignity and respect. One discovers one's essential goodness and the graced quality of one's life. When lack of self-worth, experiencing oneself as rightfully a victim or the absence of healthy self-love are detected, it is time to come closer into the aura of love that God projects. It is time to lean against God's heart to feel the gentle reminders that each of us is a gift, each created for the fullness of human dignity. In that embrace one discovers true needfulness and vulnerability, the heart of the beloved child that rests in loving arms and finds there its peaceful home.

I don't know exactly why, but this struck me just the right way as I read it. It has been a day of resting in loving arms. A peaceful contrast to the conflict-driven week I just finished.