"I said, 'No!' "

AAAAHHHH, finally, a moment of peace. A tiny moment in history when there is no need to rush around seeking the location of a child; no need to wonder what is being spilled, or turned over, or eaten...or so I thought. The air is filled with sounds of childish jabbering and playful laughter...and then, it happened. Only a drip at first, then a stream, then an all out waterfall! Quick to my feet and around the corner I peer to find what every parent never desires to find...water! Lots of water...water flowing from one end of the bathroom to the other. Water squishing between my toes as I leap into the flowing H2O to salvage anything in the direct line of the overflow. In the midst of "Lake Mackenzie", I manage to force out, "How many times have we had this discussion? How many times have you been disciplined for this?" (Ok, so maybe I didn't express my concern QUITE like that!)

And then with a pause in my "water-filled" moment, I regress...How many times have I said, "No!" "Don't!" "Put that back!" "Stop!" "Why did you do that?" "Why won't you listen?" "Don't you understand that I only want what is best for you?"

Life with children seems to be full of the previous imperatives and questions. How often do those phrases pass through my lips? More often than I ever anticipated! In the midst of attempting to raise our children to be manner-filled, etiquette-wise, and "heathen-less", there can be great frustration! Why the need for constant "reminders" of what to do and not to do; and simply for their own good? Yet, as I ponder those thoughts, there is a still, small voice prodding gently at my own heart. "My dear child, why won't you listen? Why do I constantly have to remind you? Why do you reject or ignore my instruction when I DO know what is best for you?" Oh, the humbleness exuded when reality sets in that I, as a child of God, do not consistently, like my own children, hold fast to the "instruction" of my "Parent".

As I revel in those gentle reminders of my own relationship and interaction with the Lord, I feel rather ridiculous. Who would spend money to visit a doctor, but then use their own remedy? Who would pay to consult a beautician, but then cut their own hair? Who would hire a caterer, but then prepare their own meal? Our lives are full of opportunities to consult "experts". We do so because of a lack of expertise in differing subjects, and often times, it costs us monetarily. There is One not seeking monetary gain; One not executing a career; an Expert beyond compare with our, yes our, best interest at heart. How ridiculous to not consult and adhere to the "advice" of such a phenomenon! Yet, how often that humbling question is presented..."My dear child, why will you not listen?"

What stands in our way? What keeps us from following through? What makes us continually form "Lake _____" in our own lives? Questions easily answered by looking into the life of our own children. Simply put, only focusing on what they want. With no reverance for consequences, children push forward. It is only when the adventure ends in destruction, or something inevitably falls or spills, that the tears of sorrow (or pain!) flow and the regret begins. In the complexity of life as an adult, are we not also sometimes found guilty of pushing forward until the "adventure", one way or another, ends?

But, oh the lessons to be learned in the simplicity of a child. The TRUST exhibited in standing in a chair or crawling on a counter. The JOY exhibited in a beautiful butterfly or steadfast squirrel. The LAUGHTER in a game of hide-and-seek or peek-a-boo. The LOVE exhibited no matter the past experiences or mistakes.

What then is the answer for us today? How do we lessen the frequency of those gentle, but sometimes stern, words from the Father and begin a journey of faithfulness? One simple verse sums up this complex question...

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these"...we simply have to be willing to put ourselves aside and come to Him as a child...fully trusting; with child-like faith.