“Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.” Isaiah 49.15
“Not forgotten.”
Those words became an anthem for me five months ago, just after the birth of my first child, a little boy named Patrick. I would remind myself of them during the days when it was just the two of us: when I was never truly alone but could have easily felt lonely. Those days were long, but the presence of God was richly with me; I never changed a diaper alone.
“How are you doing?” several would ask, including my mom. “Good!” I always responded, for the possible loneliness never affected me. It was as if there was a great shield over our house, allowing me to care for my growing son with the Lord’s help, kept safe from worldly dangers.
Of course, there were days when I would become distracted, like Peter walking on the water (Read Matthew 14!). But in those moments the Lord would say, “You are not forgotten,” and my soul would rest once again. There were some days where “Not forgotten” took the form of a battle yell, when I could see worry or thoughts of loneliness like storm clouds on the horizon. I would say that I was, simply, “not forgotten,” believing that what my Father said was true.
“Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God? But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.” (Luke 12.6-7)
He showed Himself to me in small ways. Friends would come to visit, do our laundry, bring us food – each was an example of God’s love and provision for us, as He daily showed me how I am “not forgotten.”
The verse at the top of this post has several layers of meaning for me. The first image is a picture of a mother nursing her child, something that happens roughly seven times a day for me now. Patrick eats, wakes for a little while, sleeps, and then wakes up hungry to eat again; the cycle continues. He smiles, laughs occasionally, and grows constantly.
Much of my day consists of caring for him, whether it is feeding, changing, or rocking to sleep. It’s a delight, and a joy. The two of us are nearly inseparable, and even when I cook dinner he is there on the floor, next to me. My eye is always watching him, my ear always listening for him. He’s helpless without me, and yet my care for him likely goes unnoticed by his little mind. He knows when he is uncomfortable, or hungry, or tired: he doesn’t know that a diaper change is the solution, or that he needs to sleep or eat. But I know, as his mother, and I give him what he needs.
I think it’s similar with God the Father. Human beings, limited as we are, often just know that we are uncomfortable, or in need of something. We may think that we know what we need, but often before we’re even aware of our own need God has already provided, already taken care of it. Before Patrick knows that he needs a diaper change, his mother already has him on the changing table, new diaper in hand. Before we breathe, God our Father is sending air into our lungs. Before we pray, God is already making a way. Before we need Him, He is there.
Just as I cannot forget my son, God does not forget us. Just as I care for my baby, the Father will always take care of His children, whether we notice it or not.
The Fullers Four 