Where are you God?

Willow's first time on the Merry-go-Round!

I am a Christian.   I have been for over 20 years.  I have asked God so many times in this journey where He was.  "Help me, God!  I am so overwhelmed with anger, pain, and fear...I can't see you, hear you, or feel you!"  Then He gently reminds me. 

Wee one looks at me with those big brown eyes, letting me know she feels safe and loved, as I rock her to sleep.  "Yes, God.  I see you."  Rolling around on the carpet, tickling wee one as she giggles and giggles.  "Okay, God...I hear you."  Outside, wee one puts up her hand and grabs my finger.   We walk together with the wind blowing through our hair, the sun shining on our faces, finger in hand, and there is peace.  "Yes, God.  I feel you."

When I am focused on myself, I can't see, hear, or feel God as I long to.  When I focus on the situation we are in, rather than living in the moment, I am lost, and continue to move in circles,   
                                                 going nowhere,   
because I can't see where I am going.  How is that fair to Willow?  How is that fair to the rest of my family?  It isn't. 

I will choose joy.  I will choose peace.  I will choose love.  

Unfortunately, I forget what the right choice is sometimes and start moving in those circles again, 

       round and round, guilt and anger, 

              round and round, fear and pain... until I am so 

                                                                               dizzy 

                                                                                 I fall down.  

That is when I reach my hands up and always find Him waiting for me. 

Ohhh, Momma

I love it when she says that.
It is usually when she is hurt or scared.  She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, and in her Wee little voice says, "Ohhh, Momma?"  as if she is asking if it is going to be okay.
My       heart       melts.  
Yes, Willow, it is going to be okay.  
                     I will make sure of it.  

It is getting easier when she calls me Momma.  
At first I had twinges of guilt every time she said it.  I am not her Momma- I am her Grandmother!  But that twinge is gone now.
  
I have always called myself Grammie when talking to her.  Everyone else does the same--- "Go give that to Grammie..."  
               yet she still calls me Momma.  
Wee one still calls her real Mother Momma, too.  Maybe to her it is just a name.  She hears her aunts and uncles call me Mom, so maybe she thinks that's just who I am-- Mom. 

I am sure that the day will come when she will look up at me with those same big eyes, and in her Wee little voice say, 
"Ohhhh, Grammie?"  and that will be okay, 
but for today, 
             I am Momma.