God Wants You in His Arms

God wants YOU in His Arms

Several years ago, Jeanette George wrote about a flight she had from

Tucson to Phoenix. Some of you have been on that flight from Tucson to

Phoenix – it’s not a long flight at all. Seated next to her was this

young woman with a small, little baby girl. Jeanette describes the

little baby, says she was beautiful. She was wearing this white dress.

Her hair was fixed with a little pink bow. This baby was smiling and

she kept saying “Dada, dada” during the first part of the trip. And the

woman explained, “we’re going home to her daddy. We’ve been away for 24

hours and he’s going to meet us at the airport.” Everybody was just

enjoying this adorable little girl. Well the mom had a thermos bottle

and she’s feeding this baby juice and fruit, juice and fruit. And the

baby started crying. I guess the ears, or something, as they’re flying.

And the more the baby cried, the more juice and fruit. Then the flight

got turbulent. Oh, yeah. She had more came up than had gone down. It

was just a huge, huge mess. This baby’s face is blotted with red from

the crying. Her hair, her white dress, just everywhere. People were

assuring this young mother that it was okay, handing her tissues while

running for cover.

When the plane landed, the little girl was fine again. She started

saying, “Dada, dada” again. Nobody else was fine, but that little girl,

she was fine. Jeanette George says when they got off, she spotted the

daddy. She spotted him. She said there he was standing in white pants,

in a white shirt, holding white flowers. As he walked to embrace his

wife, she just handed him the child, as she’s on the way to the bathroom

to cleanup. And Jeanette George said, “I thought when he looked at how

nasty that little girl had gotten, he would say, “She’s not my baby. I

don’t know whose baby she is.’” That’s not what happened. That daddy

took that little girl in his arms and he started kissing her, stroking

her hair and saying over and over again, “Daddy’s baby came home.” I

just want to read to you two brief sentences that Jeanette George says:

“I watched him all the way to the baggage area. He never stopped

kissing that baby and I thought, ‘Where did I ever get the idea that

Father God is less loving than a young daddy in a white shirt, in white

pants with white flowers who doesn’t care what his little girl looks

like, or what she smells like? He’s just glad she’s home.’”