My Toddler Showed Me Everything I’ve Been Missing.

I think I’ve been missing it.

Praying with a 3-year-old is hit or miss. Some nights she knocks it out of the park, other nights we’re praying for daddy not to get eaten by a whale.

But tonight as we were praying, she stopped me mid-sentence and said, “Do you miss Him?”

God, she meant. My 3-year-old wanted to know if I missed God.

And the more I’ve thought about that question, the more I’ve decided she’s right. I do miss Him.

I miss Him every single day, all around me.


Daylight to Dark

I miss Him in the laugh of my babies when I’m too busy to stop and listen to them giggle.

I miss Him in the colors of the sunrise as I rub my exhausted eyes and wait for my coffee to brew.

I miss Him in the quiet when I’m over-scheduled and overstimulated and over being touched.

I miss Him in paid bills and good health, and the people who believe or vote or parent differently than me but are crying out for love nonetheless.

In a thousand ways, big and small, I miss Him.

And if I’m being really honest, all the parts of me that are longing and gaping and begging to be filled up — it’s because they’re missing Him, too.

“Yeah, baby,” I finally said. “I really do miss Him.”

This story originally appeared on Daylight to Dark

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