In Your Arms

My primary love language is physical touch.  I feel most loved when someone wraps their arms around me and squeezes me tight.  When I don't have a boyfriend, I don't get a lot of hugs like these.  There aren't many people in Sacramento with whom I have that wrap-me-up-in-a-bear-hug kind of relationship.

In December, I was so overwhelmed.  I told a friend about the heaviness and defeat I felt, and he prayed with me.  He said, "The Holy Spirit is telling me that he just wants you to dialogue with him.  Talk all this out.  Yell.  Cry.  Whatever.  Treat it like a conversation."  When I got home, I looked back in my journal to see that I had been praying what I thought I should be praying in that situation, not simply laying out the truths of my heartache.

I prayed differently the next day.  I let go.  My words were sad.  They spoke of pain, despair, doubt, and confusion.  Then I sat still and said, "Your turn, God."  In response, He showed me a picture.  I was so small, and he was huge.  I sat on his lap, and he wrapped his arms around me in an embrace that left not an inch of my body untouched.  It was warm, it was strong, and it was comfort like I have never known before.  This continued to happen each time I stilled myself in God's presence for the next couple weeks.

While driving yesterday I found myself craving that once again.  When was the last time I was given a GOOD hug?  Two hours later, I stood with a group of people in worship.  I sang out with abandon, and confidence.  And He was there.  God wrapped his arms around me, swaying with me and the music.  I don't have words to describe the experience.  I am awestruck to think of God in his great and beautiful majesty, coming to me, loving me in a way that is so meaningful and special to me.  It's beyond what I ever could have imagined.