I was out shopping in a supermarket one day and waiting in the queue with my 10 month old baby. He was hot and bored and not impressed by the offering of an ice-cream wafer that I had given him. Admittedly it did have more in common with cardboard. He had sucked at it half-heartedly and then tried to mould it round the trolley bar, dropping the soggiest bits into the depths of my handbag. I was fairly distracted by this, not least because I could see globules of moist wafer welding themselves to the inside of my chequebook. So I was quite taken aback when I turned around to find a girl of about 20 (I’m going to call her Paula) quite literally in my face. She was close enough to lick me. (Fortunately, she did not choose this option.)

I was a bit alarmed and stepped back sharply.

Whilst Paula seemed to be alone, she appeared to have quite profound communication difficulties. She clearly had no idea of what the usual and appropriate British supermarket queue spacing was. Nor did she care. She then proceeded to touch my baby’s bare feet, whilst looking intently behind her at the frozen vegetables. She appeared to be humming to herself.

I was a little nervous. I found her behaviour threatening and wanted to say something. I didn’t like her touching Sam. But, something in me just waited. I had no idea what to say anyway. Sam didn’t seem to mind having his feet tickled and his legs stroked by a total stranger. But then he was 10 months old and let most things pass. I bristled inwardly and then took a deep breath, hauling the potatoes onto the conveyor belt, hoping the noise might cause a diversion. Mistake. Paula then showed an interest in what we had bought. I thought at one stage she was actually going to bite into a kiwi, but no”¦ it was safe. She just smelled it. A lot.

I then struck up a conversation with her that went something like this:

Me: Hot isn’t it?
Paula: I stroked his leg
Me: Yes, yes you did. Sam is hot and a bit bored. Aren’t you Sam?
Sam:
Paula: Daddy’s not here
Me: No. His Daddy is at work.

That was pretty much it. Nothing extraordinary. But it got me thinking. We are so unfriendly and stand-offish in this country, especially to those who are different to us. Paula was not hurting Sam and yet everything in me wanted to shout at her “Stop touching my baby!” She was not harming me, although she probably had a good idea of how the pores of my flustered skin looked under a microscope.

But Paula was a space invader.

As I drove home I was reminded of Psalm 139:5
“You hem me in, behind and before. You have laid your hand upon me.”

My question to myself today is this:
How much do I hold God at ‘supermarket queue distance?’ How often do I allow Him to really get close to me? When was the last time I allowed Him to be “in my face”?

James 4:8 says:
“Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.”

This is my challenge to me and to you: go and invade God’s space today. He doesn’t mind how close we get and He won’t nick or lick anything.