I’m sitting here with a little boy climbing all over me. Sitting on the arm of my chair. Hanging from my neck. Inching his finger closer and closer to my keyboard. When I send him one of those Mommy looks, he flashes those cute little dimples of his and giggles in that way only little kids can giggle–then lunges across my lap and proceeds to dangle off the chair while kicking me in the face.

Oh, yes. There’s nothing like a little kid, and especially a little boy. =)

Over the weekend my church had an open house Thanksgiving dinner and music service to celebrate our new building. After the meal, when we went up to the sanctuary for the music, my daughter and her cousins decided they wanted to sit in the pew in front of us, but Rowyn climbed into his spot on my lap and wouldn’t be budged.

As any mother can attest to, there are moments aplenty when you just want two minutes of peace. Two minutes of quiet. Two minutes without hearing, “I want Mommmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyy!” echoing through your house.

But as any mother can attest to, when you have a sweet little one snuggled in your lap grinning up at you, frustration can’t long keep a hold on you. As I sat there in church enjoying the cuddles of my baby, I had one of those moments where I realized that this little boy would soon be a big boy, then a teenager. He will soon grow out of sitting on laps and being perfectly content in my arms. He’s my youngest, so it hit me a little harder than it did with his sister.

It’s as it should be, yes. Kids have to grow up. Parents’ roles shift and change. There are new expectations, new things to delight us. For instance, with my 6-year-old daughter, you can’t (or can, LOL) imagine the feeling it gives me when she helps someone younger or brings a smile to an elderly woman’s eyes. When she draws a truly impressive picture or astounds me with a bit of insight or logic.

As the kids grow up, they want me in different ways. And frankly, it gets frustrating when they regress and want me to do what they hadn’t for months. But thinking about it makes me ponder how the analogy works in faith.

God must really love a new Christian. Love the way they cling to Him with that innocence, with that fear that if they let go, the world may just come and get them. I bet He loves snuggling new believers in His arms and saying “Abba’s here. Shhhh. Abba’s here.”

And maybe there’s the heavenly equivalent of a bittersweet pang when He realizes that stage won’t last forever. But then, the whole point is to teach us to go out. To grow up. To learn and develop and step out–not on our own, never on our own, but with that degree of independence.

If I’m a good mama, I’m going to equip my kiddos with what they need to move beyond my lap. But it’s my prayer they never leave, not in a way that prohibits coming back, coming home, getting a hug.

It’s good to be wanted. Certainly in our walk of faith, it’s good to rely on God. But He wants us to grow from milk to meat, from uncertainty to trust in the way He’s equipped us. Just like I want the cuddles to be punctuated with them doing for themselves, He wants us to rely on Him but also rely on His teachings to go do–do what’s He’s commissioned us to do.

The adorable little monkey is hanging on my arm again, alternately making me laugh and plead, “Please, Rowyn, two minutes. Just give me two minutes to finish up.” Here’s praying that today as God looks down on me, He’s saying, “I love it when you work right there beside me, Daughter. Know I’m here, always right here . . . but don’t be afraid to go do what I’ve taught you to do.”