Picturing...

I'm still slowly wading my way through this Bible study book.

The first question on tonight's list was a good one - and it made me thankful for the way God brings old memories back to teach me in a way that makes sense to my mind.

This chapter talks about how sometimes we're the prodigal and sometimes we're the brother. I haven't had the strength to answer the really hard questions yet, but the chapter began by reading the parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15. Then she says, " Close your eyes and picture the Father running to you...What picture do you have in your head?"

I had to think about it for a while, but it came to me.

Have you been watching that new show on ABC called Find My Family? I am such a sucker for shows like this - beautiful stories that result in much cleansing of the tear ducts. In case you've missed it, the show is about people who have searched in vain for birth parents...or children they gave up...or family members they lost...and the show reunites them. At the end of each segment, the "found" person stands at the top of a hill under the family tree. The "searching" person stands at the bottom of the hill and makes the trek toward the tree.

The show must have some rules about making that moment and its suspense last as long as possible, because the seeker walks slowly...and the sought stands firmly under the tree...but even so, you can tell these people want to do some running. The person walking up the hill takes a little running step or two every now and then, and the person at the end of the path shifts nervously, and you can just tell that desire to break into a run is so overwhelming.

And that is what I thought of when I pictured God running. I pictured myself at the end of that path, looking up toward that tree, and seeing God standing there looking. Only in my mind, there are no TV-show-imposed rules that call for no running. He just runs. An Olympic-race run. Wind blowing in hair. Tripping forward, gasping for air, not caring about form...running.

And of course, at the end of every such run is a hug. And I had a picture for that, too.

This one comes from my high school days. I had an enormous crush on a guy I knew would never like me back. We were in two very different leagues, and I felt fortunate that he even recognized me. He did some local acting and one year he had the lead in a play. My best friend and I went to see him (God bless her for putting up with my ridiculousness), and after the play, he was on the stage greeting some friends. She pushed me toward him, and I gathered all my courage and called out his name just as he was turning to walk away. He looked over his shoulder, paused for a minute, recognized me, whipped around, and grabbed me in the biggest crushing hug I'd ever had. That hug lasted forever...a beautiful gift for an awkward teenager who just wanted to be noticed.

I pictured that, too. I pictured God sweeping me up in the never-ending hug and somehow making all the drama and worries evaporate.

It's a good exercise...picturing that moment. And I have a feeling that keeping the picture in my mind might help answer all the hard questions to come....