Where can I go from your presence?

So, this post takes parenting back a little bit, to my pregnancy with our little guy. Something was happening and I was asked to intercede for someone. As I was in worship, he started kicking me. When I was praying, he kicked me harder. I touched my stomach and said, "Oh... you feel that too. That's Abba. He loves you so much." I was immediately immersed in the presence of the Holy Spirit, and goosebumps overtook me while the little person growing within me did somersaults, dancing in His presence. It's something I remember often, with great joy.

His presence, lately, isn't something I've been able to revel in. I've been upset with the way things have turned out this last year. I've been upset that all my plans have been circumvented. Even since 2015 has started, we've experienced death, major illness, financial difficulty, the loss of dreams that were so, so hoped for, and have sat with those we love in the midst of the own struggles and pain. We've been met with grace and understanding, have been extended peace and comfort, and have even been supported. We've been shoulders that have kept the precious tears of those we hold closest, and arms that have embraced the broken and contrite. However, an old, familiar voice tells me that it's "obvious" God doesn't care about what I want. God isn't interested in what makes me happy, and that all I am is a "worker bee."

David, in Psalm 139, asks, "Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the Heavens, You are there. If I make my bed in the depths of Sheol (which we know as hell) You are there." That being the case, I've had a hard time telling God I don't want to talk right now. He reminds me, in previous verses, that he knows my lying down and getting up, when I sit and when I rise, that He perceives my thoughts from afar and that before a word leaves my mouth, He knows it completely. He has searched me, and knows me. As a matter of fact, it was He who knit me together in the secret place, the same way I felt him interacting with my little one when I was pregnant. (vs 1-16)

I think of all this and wonder how it's even possible that He wouldn't care what makes me happy. Why go through the effort? Knowing someone as intimately as having knit them together, gives you this access to their personality where you know what brings them the deepest joy, and the knowledge of how to meet their needs in their deepest sorrow. My favorite sound in the entirety of creation is my son's laughter. It's something I'm passionate about, and go after regularly. His joy is contagious, and I am jealous for it and protective over it and believe it will change lives. I know what he wants before he goes after it, and I can feel the glances he gives me when he wants me to chase him without having to make eye contact. When he is sick or in pain, it is the worst feeling I've experienced. Only having had a part in knitting him together, and getting to know who he is from his creation can give me this level of passion.

I still don't understand why my plans weren't good enough (I made them... I thought they were pretty awesome,) or why so much has happened that seems to disregard the impact to my heart. I don't believe that "everything happens for a reason," but I also don't believe that a parent who puts forth the effort that Abba does can just turn around and not care about His child. There are familiar voices who would tell me otherwise, but He knows me, and has known me from the pinpoint of my creation. He calls me fearfully and wonderfully made. He thinks better of me than I do of myself. He's my Abba, of course He cares.