My wife Missy is a journal-holic, though she’s not engrossed with jotting entries as much as she is with discovering a new adventure to log. And naturally, every adventure requires its very own journal. As a result, most Missy-journals will normally house about five entries before retirement and eventual replacement. She’s quite adventurous.
Last night Missy cracked open her latest chronicle and began flipping through the pages to find a blank canvas. This is normally easy to locate, however, our two-year-old daughter had found a pen earlier that day and decided to make a few entries of her own. Pages and pages were covered with random marks and adorable scribbles. As any pathetic parent would, I tilted my head, softened my brow and let out an adoring, “awwww”. There were no logical reasons for my reaction. The scribbles were erratic and formless without purpose or prose. Yet, they melted Daddy’s heart.
God often uses my children to offer me a glimpse into His heart. Time after time I’ve read of His love for me and yet continue to wonder why He would. What is it that He loves about me? My children help me understand that it’s simply because I’m His. There are no logical reasons for His love. My scribbles are erratic and formless without purpose or prose. Yet they melt His heart.