Will is crying. He is hungry. And I know it.
But it takes me a few minutes to get things arranged to feed him and in the meantime his cry escalates. Louder. Grating.
"I'm here, mama's here," I say over and over. "I'm here. I'm always gonna be here. I'm always gonna take care of you," I say.
But he doesn't understand my words. The only thing he understands is my breast. He hasn't yet learned to trust me. It's a process. He cries and I respond. Someday he will know, know me, that I am a safe haven.
And this is when I think this is how it is, has always been with God and me, God and his children. He is always there.
I have spent so many years, crying like a child, wondering where he is, not seeing him, when he's been there all along, saying "I'm here, I'm never going to leave you, I'll always be here to take care of you." I just couldn't hear him.