The big move was over, friends from church had helped move the bigger pieces,
and we were left to settle in and unpack the boxes that contained the clutter
of our lives. Standing there looking out the kitchen window the house seemed
eerily quiet. I missed voices and familiar people being around.
In that quiet moment there was still that feeling of being some how incomplete.
I had long ago come to accept that it wasnít Godís will for us to have little ones
of our own, but some times in an unguarded moment those feelings still return.
It reminded me of people who said they missed the pitter-patter of little feet,
and the sound of children playing.
In that moment I began to wonder if God ever missed the pitter-patter of childrenís feet? In the stillness, the Spirit seemed to reassure me that more than the pitter-patter of little feet, God misses the prayers of his saints.
We drive by our neighbors house and notice when they arenít home, but how many times in the busyness of our lives have we driven past a beautiful church building, and become so used to seeing the parking lot empty, that we donít give it a second thought?
Oh sure, we know that God doesnít exactly live in a church, but at times he must almost feel like we only talk to him socially on Sundayís, unless there is a crisis.
Have you talked to your Heavenly Father lately?
Really just talked to him?