(Advent) 2 minutes, 5 seconds

I called gently from the other side of the door to my 22-month-old son who had accidentally locked himself in his room. He was too young to have much of a vocabulary, but he knew my voice and could follow simple directions. Calmly I said through the crack under the door, “Come here, Austie; Mommy is right here. Come sit by the door.” I slid my hand palm side up under the door and wiggled my fingers. Seconds later, I was relieved to feel the warm pudgy fingertips of my third-born.

My sheep hear my voice and they know me.

When we moved into that home a few months earlier, we intended to switch out the door knob in our boy’s bedroom. But, obviously, we hadn’t gotten to it.

With my fingers still touching his, I told my curly-headed toddler through the door that mommy would get a snack for him. Then, with a cheery upward lift in my voice, I said, “Wait right there!”

I spun and bolted to the kitchen where I swooped through, grabbing a package of graham crackers, a paper plate, and our cordless phone. Then, hurrying back to my little boy, I chirped, “Here’s your snack, Austin!” as I squatted down and slid the plate under the door with one brown rectangle of goodness on it.

Leaning against the doorway and stretching out my legs, I chatted softly to him through the door and dialed the next best thing to 911: my husband. To my relief, he said he could come home right away and that he would take the door off its hinges to release our little captive.

I looked down. From the other side, the little white paper plate had been pushed back under the door to my side, empty.
I giggled and put another little graham cracker on the plate, sliding it back under the door.

My little lamb saw and tasted my provision.

My son trusted me. He knew my voice. He experienced and enjoyed my provision. He stayed near me,
even though he couldn’t see me,
even though he didn’t feel the hold that I had on his little life,
even though he didn’t know that a plan was unfolding on his behalf.

I think of God’s unfolding plan from eternity past. I wonder how the people of God felt/coped/responded during 400 years of silence from God as they labored, waiting in anticipation for His promised arrival.
I consider how hard it is for me to wait even now for some things that I desperately want to happen in the lives of my beloved.

Someone once told me that life is like walking in a parade: our limited real-time perspective is bound to what is right in front of us and immediately around us. God, however, sees from above the highest building. Perched on His heavenly platform, He sees the beginning from the end of the entire parade, what’s coming around every corner, and every uneven place on the road below our feet.

Like my being on the other side of the door from my young son, our good, good heavenly Father is nearer than we realize. We are guarded and cared for in ways we can’t see.
Like my son, we need rescuing from places where we might not even realize we are in trouble, in ways that our small minds can’t even fathom.

Indeed, God always has a plan, and He alone is always good. Jesus has mercifully rescued us, and His work on earth is finished.
Simultaneously, His rescue mission is still in process. Jesus Christ, our Living Hope, is coming back to take us home, free forever.