I did it!
There’s an intrinsic part of us that wants to be independent. It’s that part that desires to do something without assistance, even when we know it could be done better in more capable or skilled hands. It’s about putting our name on something.
“I did that.”
Riley (5) and Lincoln (3), have both reached that stage where they want to do a lot of things (if not everything) on their own. Getting dressed and undressed, getting a drink, playing a game… All things (among others) they want to be able to do without assistance.
And while they can do those things independently, all those things get done much more efficiently (and done much better) if my wife or I do them.
So it’s a constant struggle.
“I want to get dressed.”
“No, let me help you.”
“I want to do it!”
And so the (not so) merry-go-round of frustration begins…
“Okay, you do it… Hurry please, we need to go… Lincoln! Put on your underwear and pull up your pants!… Come on buddy, we do this all the time… Put your socks on. Hurry up!… Wrong foot…”
And the (not so) merry-go-round usually stops with Lincoln crying on the floor in his underwear (or at least half dressed). So I pick him up off the floor and hurriedly put on the rest of whatever isn’t on so we can hustle out the door to whatever comes next.
I have to believe this is how God feels about us a lot.
“Here, let me help you…”
“No! I want to do it!”
It looks so much like the (not so) merry-go-round. And so because I am impatient, I expect God to be impatient also and grow weary of my silly little game. I often envision Him growing more and more frustrated with me, until he finally just leaves me sitting there on the floor in my underwear crying.
Sorry Lincoln, someday you’ll think it’s embarrassing that I wrote about you sitting on the floor crying in your underwear. Or maybe you’ll find it more embarrassing that I wrote about me sitting in my underwear. Either way, sorry.
And while there are striking similarities, there is a marked difference. God is far more patient a father than I. And I thank Him for that.
I don’t doubt at all that God grows frustrated with us on occasion (more than “on occasion” with me I’d imagine), but I think that frustration is always overshadowed by His love for us.
But I’m not sure that I always show that to my kids.
There is nothing they could do to separate them from my love, but I’m not sure that is always apparent.
However, the other day, I was made keenly aware of the difference between how I normally act and how God feels toward us.
I came home from work at the usual time, frustrated because of traffic and the long drive (and the idiot who was entering our subdivision who couldn’t figure out how to use the stupid keypad to get in the gate, and wouldn’t move out of the way so I could let us both in). I walked in to the house with a baby crying, and Riley and Lincoln fighting and getting in trouble.
But then something remarkable happened. Riley had in her hands a picture of Santa (at right) that she had colored at school.
This is the first time she has colored inside the lines. Ever.
Completely unassisted she colored this picture of Santa, and stayed inside the lines.
And all my frustration melted away into the background. It didn’t matter anymore.
“Who colored this picture of Santa? It’s so pretty!”
“Me!”
“You did this? You colored this picture? You stayed inside the lines?”
“I did it!”
“Wow! Good job Riley. I am so proud of you!”
…
So this is how God looks at me…
I have no doubt that Tara or I could have colored that picture and done a much nicer job, and more quickly. But I think we all know that’s not really the point.
The point is that Riley did the best she could, with everything she had for us. And I welled up with pride and love to the point where nothing else mattered.
God doesn’t leave me on the floor crying when he should be frustrated with me because his perspective is way better than mine. He never loses sight of the pride and love he has for us.
And so, while He could easily outmatch us in anything He chose, He lets us present our gifts to Him because it was God who gave us the desire to use our talents and abilities. He gave us the desire to do things on our own, to create and stick our name on something. He gave us the desire to contribute something.
He could make perfect music that would far surpass anything we have ever dreamed, but He likes when I sing Him a song in my flawed, imperfect voice.
He could produce the most beautiful art the world has ever seen, but he likes when I make something lame and insignificant in Photoshop.
Anything I can do, He can do better… but He doesn’t need to or want to because He takes pride in and loves me.
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