Seeking Him where He is...

When I was growing up, one of my favorite places to be was in our garage with my Dad.  He worked a lot and always the overnight shift, so it would give him the opportunity to come to all of my school things and extra-curricular activities.  When he was home and had some rare down time, he loved to go out in the garage and "tinker around," as he called it.

I remember being absolutely fascinated with his garage workspace.  He was one of those "tool guys."  He seemed to have every possible tool imaginable.  I would wander in there and look around in wonder as though I were looking at Christmas lights or a beautiful sky full of stars.  I had no clue what 99% of the things in there were, but I was just enamored with it all.

My Dad and I have always gotten along great, but we're polar opposites when it comes to the things we are interested in, creatively and passionately.  I was always more of a fine arts person - music, art, theatre, writing, literature, dance, etc.  All of which were virtually foreign to him.  He was artistic and creative in his own right, but it came in the form of woodworking, craftsman projects and "fixing things."

Our garage was the one place I knew I could really connect well with my Dad on his level where he was.  I would go out there, even as a little girl, and try to "help" him.  Of course, help from a little girl in a workshop like that was more of a hindrance, but he never displayed that.  He would sweetly and gently teach me about the things he was doing.  How to use tools, how to work with wood, how to paint well, how to do all of those household "fix it" type of things.  These were worlds he knew and he was more than willing to share them with me.  Naturally, when I was out in the garage "helping" Dad, his projects took him much longer than necessary, but he never complained.

He is one of those "hard nuts to crack."  It takes a lot to get him engaged sometimes and really connecting in his interactions with others.  I learned at a very young age that in order to connect with my Dad in the way I wanted to, I needed to put myself in his world and engage myself in things he was passionate about and interested in, not try and force him to engage in my interests that I knew he didn't care much for, other than supporting me in being interested in those things.  In the garage, he always seemed disarmed and less guarded.  I never felt closer to my Dad growing up than when I was out in the garage with him, in the world he loved most and knew so well.  Often it took the action on my part of going out there to get him engaged, but it always did the trick.

So much of connection is seeking.

In preparing my mind for Christmas through this season of Advent, I have found my mind being drawn to the words REACHING and SEEKING.

God seeking us out and reaching His love down to us in the humble form of a tiny baby.  Something He knew we could understand and connect with.

He could have chosen to break through the sky with anthem and angel wings.  But He knew we would understand a baby's cry and a love from a servant King.  So He came with starlight and love in His eyes.  No regal welcome for His infant cries.  There have been many babies to become a King, but only one King became a baby.

He came down to our level and drew us to Himself by revealing Himself in a way that we could understand and truly see His glory.  He knew that He had to connect with us in a way that we could grasp and understand in our human way of comprehension.

And to connect with Him, we have to meet Him at the throne where He is through prayer and by the power of the Holy Spirit within us.  We have to dive into His Word and seek Him just like He sought us.

This Christmas, my prayer is that my heart will always be a dwelling place for God that seeks Him out in everything I do, giving Him continual gratitude and glory for who He is and for choosing to seek us.