Comfort

She came in with tears pooling in her big eyes, scanning the room full of unfamiliar faces.  She spotted the one she was looking for and dashed over.

Mommy reached out and pulled her little girl close.  She tilted her ear in to listen, soothing the tears, gently reassuring her daughter.  It's okay.  I'm here.

And that was enough for the girl.

I watched the little scene from my seat in the back row.  That's not so very different from our Heavenly Father, I thought.

How many times lately has my heart been full, too full to do more than run to Him, the tears welling up inside?

And He cares.  And He listens, bending in close to hear.

He speaks comfort and reassurance.  He is not removed from my pain.  In fact, my pain is His, too.

He is there, my Father, my Emmanuel, the God of all comfort.

And that is enough.