There I stood, waving out my living room window at nobody. I wondered what the neighbors would think if they happened to glance out their window at that exact moment.

You see, every weekday morning begins the same way: I rise early, make my coffee and sit down to soak up just a moment of Scripture before the chaos begins. Sometimes I’m alone, with Jesus, sharing my worries from the night before and my hopes for the day to come.

However, I’m often interrupted by the sound of my five-year-old’s little feet slowly descending the stairs. She comes to me, quietly resting in the warmth of my side, before sharing with me her worries from that night, and pouring out her hopes for the day to come.

It ends too soon and then we scramble.

I serve breakfast, check the hot lunch menu (wishing that my kids would eat today’s meal . . . no such luck). I remind them to keep eating, and then I make lunches. I beg them to talk quieter so as to not wake the baby, remind them again to keep chewing, then brushing, dressing, and tying. Every day looks like the same little dance.

It’s over before I know it, but it somehow seems to last forever.

As I bundle them up in their coats before they head off to school with their daddy, that same little five-year-old turns to me, as she does every single day, and says, “Give a kiss to Amelia for me, and don’t forget to wave out the window.” I assure her with an, “I promise.”

So every single morning, I stand in front of our living room window as the garage door closes and they back out of the driveway. I wave to my little family, praying for their safety and thanking God they are mine. I wave until the car is completely out of sight.

Most days, I see those little hands waving back at me as her eyes search the window to find mine. But there are many days I don’t.

I know this, but still, I do what I said I was going to do. I stand there, like a crazy person, waving at nobody.

You see, they forgot about me. In their excitement, conversation, song picking, seat belt situating and planning for their day, they forgot I was there.

This particular morning it dawned on me:

We meet the reckless love and faithfulness of the Father when our hearts are ready and turned toward Him. We snuggle up close, speak freely and connect. When the house is still, I ask Him to be with me as I go about my day. But as the day starts and I’m swept into the routine, with the joys and the stressors, I forget. I get lost in what I’m doing and I miss those opportunities to see His face.

I picture Him, standing in the window, jumping up and down, flailing both arms, like a crazy person, saying, “I’m still here, just like I promised. Look this way and you’ll see I’m with you.”

I wonder if my kids remember it differently. Do they go about their day believing that because they didn’t see me, I wasn’t there? How easy it is for us to assume that God isn’t near when in fact, it is us who forget to look up.

“You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand! I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence! (Psalm 139:5-7)

I often find myself racing through my day in my own strength, forgetting He’s exactly where I asked Him to be, where He said He would be.

How sweet is the truth that His presence is inescapable. He’s promised to be the first to arrive and the last to leave. We can lean on His faithfulness to follow through. In the joy and the chaos He is near. Let’s not forget to look up!

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