Finding God through Nursing

Edie takes a tumble and bumps her head. She immediately cries, "Mamaaaa!" I scoop her up and she tears at my clothes until she's safely latched, never looking up at me. My breast is her safe place. 

It's also her BFF. When she's playing around with a big spoon, banging it on the floor, she has to crawl over to show the boob. She pinches it between her fingers (always reminding me I really need to cut her nails!), latches on for no more than five seconds while smacking me in the collarbone a few times, and crawls away.

It's her resting place--she naps on it more often than not and has to nurse to sleep at night.  

We've started to realize "Mama!" means the boob, not me.  She has a relationship with it apart from her love for me, and most of the time that's okay because I'm happy she's getting what she needs.  Sometimes, though, I do kind of just feel like a dairy cow--used for what I can provide her without getting any appreciation in return.

Is this not a picture of how I treat the Lord? I use up His provisions without thinking twice, whine when they're not within my reach right when I need them, and hardly acknowledge Him.  I need Him, but I act like I only need the things He gives me. I act like they just show up on their own.

Even though Edie fails to thank me each time she pops off the boob satisfied, I love her FURIOUSLY. Like, I can't even tell you how crazy I am about that little soul. She came from me. Appreciation or not, she's my girl.

It's insane to think of the Lord feeling that way about me, whether I acknowledge Him or not.
"She's my girl."