Come Running

I'm sitting in this chair typing away when I feel the welcome warmth of a baby's head rests on my hip.  Her little thumb tucked in her mouth, she looks at me asking to be held.

Her sweet sister toddles up with and empty straw cup from breakfast.  She wants me to fill it.

We all collapse on the floor: a snuggly mess of limbs.

And I inhale sharply.

What faith they girls have in me.

Do I have that same faith?

When I am tired and needing rest, do I lay my head in my Father's lap for comfort?

When I am worn and dry, do I come to the Living Water to drink?

I soak in this picture of faith in their little lives, and I come running to Him.