Sometimes the Lord speaks to me through analogies – visual pictures that play out before me and I seem a deeper meaning in them. My husband laughs at me (and denies that he does) because yes, the Lord has used a one-legged bird, a dog, and a squirrel to speak His truth to me before.
It’s okay. I’m okay with it. Judge if you want. Think I’m crazy. It’s okay. (you’re still reading, so apparently I’m not that whack-o).
This morning, He spoke to me through my daughter. My precious, ADD (not really, um, maybe?) 3 year old.
Here is how the scene unfolded:
I asked her to bring me her bowl on the coffee table. She continues to play with one of the floor toys, with her back to me.
(Normally I would repeat myself,using a less than patient tone, since she did not even acknowledge my request. But for whatever reason this morning, I felt like I should just sit back and watch).
About thirty seconds after asking her (which for this mom waiting on obedience or at least a nod of acknowledgement can seem like a lifetime), she gets up and makes the scenic route to the coffee table. So you can picture this, let me paint the scene.
She is siting about 5 feet away from the coffee table. Instead of standing up and walking straight towards it, She instead gets up, starts heading towards me (when it probably dawns on her for the first time what I have actually requested), and then heads to the coffee table, choosing to go around the way where there are pillows in her path.
Seeing these as obstacles that she must swing over, she puts one hand on the coffee table and one on the couch, and Indiana Jones style swings across the ravine to the other side. She then finally grabs the bowl with the remnants of yogurt, and turns around to the path she just took. I quickly tell her to not even think about it, knowing she is thinking of pouncing over the pillows this time (and my mind envisions bowl, spoon, and child flying in 3 separate directions).
So she turns the other direction, once again the longest route back to me, and precedes in my direction. Once she is at a straight-away, she turns sideways and holds out the bowl towards me, and begins to walk towards me without looking, heading straight towards the gate.
(* the wondrous gate that keeps my children contained so that I can be sane in a house with a 1 year old that wants to climb and conquer everything in his path).
I then have to warn her to watch where she is going and keep her eyes on me, so she doesn’t run smack into the boundary line I’ve placed in the room. (seriously – do you hear the Lord’s truth in this?)
She eventually gets to me, bowl miraculously in one piece (because for some reason this morning I thought it was wise (?) to give her one of our breakable ones instead of the usual plastic ones).
And I am laughing and smiling to myself because this entire time, the Lord is saying to me that she is the same as me.
Usually I would interpret this scene through my faults and what I feel I don’t do well – like not obeying immediately when the Lord directs, and then going about that obedience in my own sweet timing, choosing my route and having Him correct me along the path. (And how revealing that I pass along the disappointed tone to my daughter that I believe the Lord uses with me.)
But recently, He has introduced me to the truth that I don’t have a very firm grasp of His love.
How much He absolutely loves me, adores me, and delights in me.
And that I don’t have a firm grasp on His gentle grace.
This morning, this beautiful, refreshing, life-giving morning, I feel like what I felt for my daughter in those moments was a glimpse of what He feels for me. Smiling. Watching and finding humor in my meandering. And enjoying it when I take joy in the path He has directed me in. In the same way my daughter chose to see her task as an adventure through the living room, He loves it when I see the fun and joy in what He has placed before me. And use my creativity to pursue the tasks that He has put before me.
So instead of viewing the Lord’s response to me as I am – how I, unfortunately, respond impatiently to my children, I need to view the Lord’s response to me as He is, gentle and compassionate and loving. He has no unrealistic expectations of me in which I disappoint Him daily. But He delights in each step I take towards Him and towards the things He has direct me. And He enjoys watching me pursue those things in joy – still guiding and correcting so that I don’t run into the boundary lines He’s placed, but all the time smiling. Because He sees His Son in me, and a daughter that is trying her best to follow Him each day.
Not perfect. But imperfect progress.
love it.