Here in Your Arms

I struggle blogging sometimes. I want to blog every day. The list of things I want to write about but don't have time to grows and grows. I think my list is up to 12 blog ideas.

Usually when I say I don't have time to blog, it's because of pride. I like my writing to be perfect. Some people struggle writing because they want to shock and awe their readers with their profound insight and wisdom. I want to win people over with my beautiful rhetoric. Which sometimes takes forever to compose.

I should be trying to win people over for the the Lord and his glory, not my own.

So today I'll keep it short.

Physical touch is my love language. Which is ironic, because I hate being touched by most people. It takes a long time for someone to gain my trust enough for me to allow myself to be physically affectionate with them. And this isn't just relationally. I struggle to even hug my roommates.

But, once someone breaks that barrier, I break the elementary rule, "keep your hands to yourself."

In my facebook profile, under the "about me" section I write about a few of my favorite things. One of them says, "strong arms, and being enveloped in them." There is perhaps no place I feel safer in the world than in someone else's arms. I'm not sure why either, I just know that I could sit in silence with someone holding me for hours and be perfectly happy.

But recently, I have been caught in the arms of another lover.

Over break, a dear friend challenged me, "The Bible says to pray without ceasing. What if we actually took that seriously?" Since then I have been praying more than I even have in my entire life. I'm not perfect, but most of the time I'm not doing homework or with people I'm in prayer. Talking to my daddy. I pray when I walk, when I drive, when I run, when I'm in the shower, when I'm cooking.

And I know, that when I'm not praying, I want to be. When I'm not praying the world seems a million times more scary. And when I'm not praying, I feel more vulnerable.

But I feel so safe when I'm wrapped tightly in the arms of prayer. Prayer makes me feel brave. Which is something I don't feel very often.

God is a lot of places, but apparently he missed that day in preschool, because God has never kept his arms to himself... and I'm so thankful for that.

I love you daddy.