Give It To Me Now
Many times I find similarities between my relationship with my children, and my relationship with my Father in Heaven. Today was no exception.
My two-year old stomped his chubby little feet over to me, and asked in his sweet little way for a pear. Sounded more like, "Pay-ah." Knowing his hunger after waking up from a nap, I obliged, hopping up and grabbing a pear from the basket.
But in his wee mind, pears were in the refrigerator for some weird, irrational reason. And when I closed the fridge door and told him to wait, he commenced Toddler Tantrum 2000. Threw his cup, stomped his feet, cried and shrieked at the top of his lungs. I repeated, "Jed, Mommy's cutting the pear. It will be ready in a minute." Nope. He was having none of it.
Until a minute later, when I handed him the bowl with cut pear slices. Then he wiped away the tears, and toddled off, happy as he could be.
While I was cutting the pears (and trying to not fillet my finger), it occurred to me that this has happened to me before. Except I was the "toddler" and God, the Parent.
I wondered how many times have I prayed, "Lord, if only I could have _____, it would make my life so much better." And with each subsequent prayer, I would get a bit whinier. I'm not sure it ever came to tantrum, but definitely to whine stage.
Could it be that God was just cutting the pear?
Taking His time to make sure that His gift to me was just right. Cut to the right size so I didn't choke on it, inspecting the fruit to make sure there were no rotten spots.
All the while, I'm impatiently stomping my foot thinking God's ignoring me, or He just doesn't want me to have the fruit I have asked for. Doesn't He know that what I want is over here behind Door #3?
What I took away from these three minutes in the kitchen with a 2-year old is this: wait. Wait for the fruit. It's being prepared. It's going to be the best fruit for His child.
Just wait.
My two-year old stomped his chubby little feet over to me, and asked in his sweet little way for a pear. Sounded more like, "Pay-ah." Knowing his hunger after waking up from a nap, I obliged, hopping up and grabbing a pear from the basket.
But in his wee mind, pears were in the refrigerator for some weird, irrational reason. And when I closed the fridge door and told him to wait, he commenced Toddler Tantrum 2000. Threw his cup, stomped his feet, cried and shrieked at the top of his lungs. I repeated, "Jed, Mommy's cutting the pear. It will be ready in a minute." Nope. He was having none of it.
Until a minute later, when I handed him the bowl with cut pear slices. Then he wiped away the tears, and toddled off, happy as he could be.
While I was cutting the pears (and trying to not fillet my finger), it occurred to me that this has happened to me before. Except I was the "toddler" and God, the Parent.
I wondered how many times have I prayed, "Lord, if only I could have _____, it would make my life so much better." And with each subsequent prayer, I would get a bit whinier. I'm not sure it ever came to tantrum, but definitely to whine stage.
Could it be that God was just cutting the pear?
Taking His time to make sure that His gift to me was just right. Cut to the right size so I didn't choke on it, inspecting the fruit to make sure there were no rotten spots.
All the while, I'm impatiently stomping my foot thinking God's ignoring me, or He just doesn't want me to have the fruit I have asked for. Doesn't He know that what I want is over here behind Door #3?
What I took away from these three minutes in the kitchen with a 2-year old is this: wait. Wait for the fruit. It's being prepared. It's going to be the best fruit for His child.
Just wait.
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