The Joy of Being Found

I was playing a game with my toddler the other day. It is, by far, one of her favorites.

The sweet little thing climbs up onto my bed, hides herself behind an oversized throw pillow, and waits to be found. And I do. I find her. Over and over again I pretend to search around for her and then in dramatic fashion pull the pillow back to exclaim, "I found you!!" And every time without fail her eyes light up as she squeals with delight and erupts into laughter -- "Again?!"

She loves being found.

As we played on incessant repeat, I began to notice the little details to this game she loves to play.

For one, sweet thing has peanut butter smeared across her face from lunch, a sagging diaper in desperate need of a change, and the effect of static electricity to her hair is something else. To the outsider she is a hot mess. But she is oblivious. All she cares about is that Mama will find her, with unconditional love and acceptance, and she waits in anticipation to experience the joy and delight of being found. And truthfully, while I notice the "hot mess" status, I do not care. Because I love finding her too.

There is something magical about the moment I find her. We lock eyes, her eyes begin to sparkle, we squeal and laugh together. I found her. She sees me finding her. And it is beautiful and fun and delightful. And we do it again and again and again.

Goodness, if that is not the desire of our hearts -- to have joy in being found. But for most of us it is not our reality. We are terrified that if we are found the other will shame us for the "peanut butter smears" of our past. We are terrified that if we are found the other will be repulsed by our "sagging diaper" status. We are terrified that if we are found the other will mock our "static electricity hair".

Because it has happened to us. The shaming. The repulsion. The mocking. Again and again and again.

And yet, brave souls continue to make their way into my office in desperate, although often timid, search of someone who will find them. Because they still want to be found. And somewhere deep down they know there can be joy and delight and ultimately freedom in being found by someone who will not shame or mock, but will delight in finding them too.

Eventually, I will wipe the peanut butter off of my daughter's face. I will change her diaper. I will comb out her hair. But first? First, I find her. First, I delight in finding her and allow her to experience the joy of being found.