I’m not sure what you’ve been trying to teach me lately. But I wish you would just tell me. I like a good object lesson as well as the next girl, but does it have to involve my son, his love of finger painting, and the contents of his diaper? I am thankful for his budding artistic talents, but could you please help him find a medium other than his own poop?
At times like these, random thoughts go through my mind, Father. I know that your word tells us that Jesus was tempted in all ways just as we are yet without sin, but do you have any idea how hard it is to get poop out of those little wheels on a Matchbox car? When you told us to count it all blessings when we encounter diverse trials and tribulations, did you have this in mind? And when your Spirit fell on those believers in the upper room, were any of them mothers of two-year old boys?
Can Pentecost and potty-training co-exist?
Lord, I need you to empower my parenting. You know that I desire to keep my eyes on you. But my days are so full—nursing and naps, diapers and dinosaurs, tantrums and picture books and Candyland for the thousandth time. Sometimes I forget to look up and see you.
I confess that sometimes I look back wistfully at those days before children. Days when I had the luxury of unhurried time with you, when I didn’t have to balance my Bible on a lap already full of little boy. Days when I could play the piano and sing without an extra set of little fingers banging along on the keys. Days when I was free to jump on a plane to do your bidding without three little extra pieces of carry-on luggage tagging along behind me.
And I confess that sometimes I look longingly at the future—to a day when the children are older and doing more on their own. To a day when I can at last go to the bathroom unaccompanied. A day when I can leave the house without a diaper bag and go to church without a supply of crayons, coloring books, and lifesavers stuck in my purse. A day when I can enjoy a meal in your presence rather than the snacks I grab here and there.
But I am reminded that your name is “I Am.” Not “I was.” Not “I will be.” But “I Am.” And you have said that “Now is the acceptable time, behold now is the day of salvation” (2 Corinthians 6:2). You know my past, you foresee my future, but you dwell with me in the midst of my now. You are there in the peanut butter and the Play-dough, the crayon on my walls and the cheerios in the carpet. You are there in the lullabies and the laughter, the tantrums and the tears. Remind me that you, who dwell in the constant present of eternity, also inhabit my now.
Help me to seek you diligently in the midst of my today. Help me see you in children who can watch ladybugs for hours, who delight in frogs and flowers, who are thankful for the moon. (When was the last time I thought to thank you for the moon, Father?) Remind me that though sometimes the days may drag, the years fly. Help me, even now, draw close to you. For I know that where I go, my children will follow. Even today, help me introduce them to you.