My daughter cried out in the middle of the night last night.

She's just shy of three years old, and she's right at the age when night terrors start to manifest themselves. Most nights she sleeps straight through, but once or twice a week, she'll sit up in bed and cry out for me or my wife. Last night she sounded so scared that she could barely raise her voice above a whisper; I just happened to be awake and I heard her from the next room. "Daddy, daddy," she whimpered.

I jumped out of bed, feeling that biological urge to protect my offspring kick into overdrive. I managed not to scream when I stubbed my toe on the vacuum cleaner and made it to her side without further incident. I climbed into bed with her and wrapped my arms around her.

There is something uniquely wonderful about the way a child's fear can evaporate magically at the touch of a parent. It wasn't more than ten or fifteen seconds before she was fast asleep again, without another word. I stroked her hair and said my usual litany of, "Daddy's here; everything's okay; go back to sleep," and then she was snoring in my arms.

I was sitting with a woman from church a few weeks ago and we were watching our children play across the room. She looked at me and said, "Don't you just want to eat them up sometimes?" She made a little nibbling motion, as though she were eating her daughter like an ear of corn. If she'd said that to me three years ago I would have tried to move away from her as slowly as possible without agitating her. Now, though, I understand exactly what she means. The biological urge to be close to your child is overwhelming sometimes.

Now, lying in my daughter's tiny bed, I had a sudden urge to squeeze her as tight as I could, embrace her like a bear hugging its cub. It was actually a little hard to restrain myself from doing it; I squeezed as much as seemed prudent and let it go with that.

Then it occurred to me that perhaps this is how God feels about us sometimes. That He wants to hold us so incredibly close, but knows that it wouldn't be good for us--so He loosens His grasp, almost unwillingly, out of love. The next time I'm feeling abandoned by God, I'm going to try suggesting to myself that maybe this is one of those times when God would love to be holding me close to his chest, but knows that it's best for me to have a little room.

Oh my sweet little girl--you teach me so much. I may just eat you up yet.