When I was very small I had a green blanket on my bed. To anyone but me, it was nothing special at all. After I had it for a while, it was full of holes, but Mama knew not to replace it. As I tried to sleep at night, I would suck my fingers on one hand and hold my green blanket with the other, all the while rubbing the fuzz with my fingers.
Poor Mama must have constantly swept my bedroom floor of all the fuzz and my special blanket was surely less warm than it had been . . . to Mama. Not to me, for my heart was reminded of how much I was loved and how safe I was simply by being wrapped in it.
The blanket was not magic and Mama, though neither she nor I could truly know my heart, left it with me until I outgrew it. I know now, but not then, that there is just one source for the love I felt and that God is the source. He was also the one who knew my heart then as now. I am older now and do not need the blanket, but the little girl I was still lives inside me and she STILL feels blanketed in Abba’s love.