A mother sat quietly in her easy chair.
Upon the floor near her was her little one playing--piling his
blocks one upon another, then throwing and laughing in
childish glee. He was all absorbed in his play. The mother
gazed upon him with her eyes beaming. Presently she began to
call him, "Baby, come to Mama! Baby, Baby, come to Mama!" but
he played on unheeding. Again she called, but he paid no
attention; his mind was occupied with his own affairs.
Presently the mother quietly slipped
from her chair and went into an adjoining room, out of the
baby's sight. He did not notice her go. He supposed that she
was right there and that he could go to her at any time; but
happening to glance up from his play, he saw that the chair
was empty. The laughter ceased at once, and a cloud came over
his features; he turned and looked all around the room, but
his mama was not in sight. He saw only a stranger sitting in
an easy chair. A pang of startled fear passed through him, and
he began to cry and call very earnestly, in his baby way, for
his mama.
It
brought a quick response. The mother leaving her concealment,
rushed to him quickly, picked him up and hugged him tightly to
her bosom. His chubby baby arms were clasped about her neck as
though he would never let her go. Soon the tears were gone and
the baby's face lay against that of the mother, while the joy
of the mother-heart caused the eyes to shine like stars.
Now,
the mother did not go away from the child because she did not
love it, or because she thought that it did not love her; but
she wanted to draw his attention away from its little concerns
to herself. She wanted to show her affection for it and to
receive its baby caresses in return.
Like
that little one, we sometimes become so absorbed in our own
pleasures, our work or some little personal interest, that God
cannot attract our attention. His father-heart yearns for a
season of communion with us. He wants to show his love to us
and receive, in return, our love and communion. But we do not
heed him; we are too busy with other things; and so he quietly
withdraws himself, and we become aware that we are alone. With
that presence gone, how lonely we feel! How dark that world
suddenly grows! How quickly we lose interest in the things
that held our attention before! How we yearn for his presence
again! How our hearts reach out for him! How our tears start!
We think, "What have we done that caused him to leave us? Have
we grieved away his Spirit? Have we sinned against him?" But
ah! He is not gone far; he is just beyond our vision. He is
watching; he is waiting for our hearts to be drawn back to
him.
The
mother would not have left her child if by leaving, she would
have placed him in danger. She did not mean to stay away. So
God knows that to leave us thus is not to expose us to danger.
He is watching, waiting anxiously the moment when he may
return, and ah! When he does return and takes us in his bosom,
what words of comfort he speaks! What tender affection he
shows! And how our hearts are melted and poured out in
thanksgiving and adoration before him! If God apparently
withdraws from us, it is only because he sees that we need to
be left alone for a season. He sees that the heart must be
drawn away from selfish interest; and when this is
accomplished, he comes back and reveals to us anew the
fullness and richness of his love.
