My two year old spends most of his days trying to cling to me like his entire life depends on it. It doesn't matter if I am homeschooling his siblings, unloading the dishwasher, folding the laundry, or taking a nap. His only objective is to be close to me. This often brings me mixed feelings. One part of me cherishes his desire to be in my arms or to give my cheek sloppy, wet kisses. The other part of me just wants to escape the thirty pound trap cementing my leg to the floor. Can't he see how busy and exhausted I am?
I know this won't last forever. In fact my other three passed through this stage far too quickly in hindsight, so I try to enjoy it. Sometimes, I stop the never-ending chores to cuddle with him before he doesn't fit in my arms any longer. I ruffle his floppy blonde hair as I try to walk across the kitchen like we're in a three-legged race. I spend a few extra minutes savoring the feeling of his tiny hand in mine as we walk across a parking lot.
On especially clingy days, I'm so grateful that God understands. In fact, the authors of the Old Testament often use "motherly" terms to describe God's love for his people. A couple examples:
but they never knew that I healed them. I led them with human cords, with ropes of love.
To them I was like one who eases the yoke from their jaws;I bent down to give them food.
so I will comfort you,
and you will be comforted in Jerusalem.