Quiets You

He lay, sprawled, howling. His small body unhurt, but he howled anyway, in surprise, in frustration. I smiled, understanding his need.
I bent to scoop him up, hold him close,  murmuring words of love, comfort. Rubbing his back, soothing the hurt.
As the cries eased to whimpers, then silence, he laid his head on my shoulder, curling his baby form into mine. Quieted, he clung, hurt assuaged, relishing. The comfort, the love found in arms wrapped round.
And I swayed, relishing the moment.
Soon, he toddled on, resuming his play.
In the night, in the midst of my own cries, I heard words murmured: "He will quiet you with His love." (Zephaniah 3:17)
In the midst of my own ache, the clamor of surprise, frustration, even fear, He would scoop me up? Hold me? How was that possible?
How could God free me from the uproar in my heart?
"He will quiet you with His love."
Just as I wrapped arms round young grandson, consoling with words, with my nearness, my Father draws near.
He bends, soothing with whispers sweet.
"I love you. I am here. I know. I know. I will care for you. I am here. How I love you....."
And my own roaring heart stills. The clamor ceases.
And I relish the quiet, the comfort, of His arms wrapped round.