Rainboots and Automatic Doors

Today in Kentucky it rained all day.  

All day.

It was one of those days when I felt myself wishing God was tangible enough to just sit on the couch with, resting.

Sometimes words are not enough.

I am out of words.

So I asked, as tomorrow holds a huge decision for me, that God would make Himself known.

That He would speak to me and I would be close enough to hear.  That He would know, even when I don't have words to explain, how much I loved Him.

I got out of my car tonight, just as the rain died down a little.  As I walked into the store I watched a dad get his little girl out of the car.  Dressed in a pink raincoat and tiny pink rainboots, he put his little girl down on the ground and she started running for the door.  He laughed and took a few large steps to catch up with her.

I walked a little slower.  Recognizing God's sweet pattern of communication unfolding.

The dad reached out and gently brushed his daughters hair, steering her towards the doors of the store.  She kept running and he kept right in step with her, all the way across the parking lot.  Every once in a while he would reach out his hand and touch her head and steer her back on track.  A little farther to the left.  A little more to the right.

Finally they got to the automatic doors.  I watched as the dad scooped his daughter up in his arms as the doors whooshed open with a hum and spray for rain.

Together they walked through the open doors.