Learning to be 5
After putting Emmy to bed last night she quietly and politely asked if she could come to listen to my prayers. “Of course,” I said, and she came quietly to the child gate we keep at her doorway to keep her little sister from wondering the house while we are asleep. Even though she knows how to open it, she sat quietly as I read from the Psalter and prayed along.
When I was done she asked if she could sit with me while I read. “No Emmy, I don’t think that is a very good idea,” I replied, at which she began to question my decision. Eventually she couldn’t take no any longer, and began to cry, “I just want to cuddle.”
Now I am not heartless, and I wanted to let her out from the beginning, but something told me that she was very, very tired. Also, her little sister, who could go to sleep at 8 if hr big sister would ever let her, would have wanted to come out too. 9:30 is far too late for little B to be out of bed. I had to say no for her own good, and for the good of her little sister.
She cried and cried sitting at her spot in the gate. I could hardly watch and stay my course but I did. I was reading the Book of Joshua, and it occurred to me that this was a living parable. There she sat, crying and pleading that her daddy would allow her to join him in his evening rituals. She was not necessarily being patient, by any means, but she was actively seeking me and my heart was moved with compassion and a real desire to let her enjoy a cuddle before she headed off to sleep. This was to be the position of my soul before God.
Do I wait and the gate and plead with Him with true desire? Or, do I choose the path of instant gratification, seeking my own way for its own sake, and instead of pleading to join Him from love, turn to a way of life that I am in charge of? Do I seek Him out of total love and devotion so much so that when he is distant I can do nothing but sorrow?
On the other hand, is he like I was in this scenario? Willing and ready to grant the request as far as He is concerned, but knowledgeable of the danger that would pose for my well-being. Is God’s heart moved when I plead, though He must deny my request out of love? Does He hear, but gird up His heart (so to speak), in order to direct me to the things that are good for me awaiting the time when he will, in fact, let me in?
At the end of the ordeal I called Emmy to me. She came out of the gate, sniffling but joyful. “Emmy, I wanted to let you out, but I couldn’t,” I explained, “because I thought you were too tired. Actually, I was going to let you come cuddle if you played quietly in your bed until your sister was asleep. Then, I would know you weren’t really tired, and your sister wouldn’t be kept up by you leaving her room. Your crying proved that I was right, and that you are too tired right now. Go back to bed, and I will see you in the morning.”
God handles me better than I handle my daughter for certain, but is this one of those life-size parables?
