“I’m watching you,” was what the Lord said to me when I entered our time together.  He was low to the ground, sitting on his heels the way my Vietnamese friend used to do.  That’s a posture that has always amazed me, since I cannot balance myself like that at all.  I must hold on to something or fall over sideways.  But here was the Lord, comfortably stooped down beside the picnic bench where we usually sit and talk.  “I’m just watching you,” he says again.

“That can’t be very exciting,” I say. We sit in silence, me being a bit uncomfortable.  “Why would you want to just watch me?” I ask. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says.  That makes me squirm.  It takes me back to age nine when my brother and I were playing hide and seek with a couple of friends while our parents visited.  Another family was there, too, along with their son I met only that night.  At one point as we all came out from hiding, the new kid called out to me as he walked over, “Hey, beautiful . . .”  I kicked him.  I kicked him in the shin and ran.  I didn’t know how to respond to that word.  I still don’t. Fortunately for the Lord, I no longer kick and run. Yet being called beautiful is still something that makes me flinch. 

“It’s like what parents feel as they watch their child. They sit and just watch in awe and wonder at how they are growing, learning and developing.  I get joy from watching you.”

Hmmm, I thought.  At first I was ready to point out that I had no children so I didn’t know what he was talking about.  Then I remembered I had experienced a bit of that.  I did understand.

The Chesley family let me hang out with them in Valley Farms back in the day.  I recall an occasion when I was in awe and filled with laughter to watch their youngest develop.  Jonathan was tiny; maybe two years old.  One day in the kitchen as his mother and I were visiting, he handed me his cup and said, “mama.”  The glimmer in his eye made it very clear that he was telling a joke.  He was making a joke by referencing me as his mother.  That was a wondrous moment I’ve always cherished – seeing how the mind of a child would begin to embrace humor. 

Then on another occasion a few years later I watched as John, the father, was disciplining him one day.  I don’t recall what Jonathan had done, but John lowered himself to his knees so he could talk to his son eye to eye, and not tower over him.  He was explaining to him why what he did was wrong.  Out of nowhere, little Jonathan formed a fist and popped his dad in the nose.  Straight on.  Perfect shot.  I hurt from holding in the laughter, knowing that it would be bad form to laugh at such a thing. But it was rather fun to watch, to watch and see how children develop.  What goes through their mind?  How they are learning and putting information together.

I don’t know that this is the kind of watching that my Lord was enjoying.  I returned my attention to him and we walked over and sat at the table.  I knew he loved me and was actually proud of me.  I sensed that nothing I could do would make him turn away or be angry.  Yes, he loves me and he likes to watch me grow, and learn and develop into what he knows is in me. 

I appreciate that.  I think I’ll let it settle in and permeate my soul.  I will humble myself and let myself be called beautiful, and I will receive the love my Lord is putting on me.  He’s watching me, and it’s a good thing.