I can see what you can’t see

A couple of little stories from this week, ways my kids have taught me about my relationship with the Father of all parents.

I can see better things for you

The pancakes were fresh off the griddle and the scent of warm batter was in the air. The girls were scaling the safety gate when I reached them–to free them to the independent society that is the dining room.

Each of them raced to their chairs and stood waiting for me to lift them into the boosters, but before I could get M in her seat, she pounced on a berry crunch morsel from yesterday that was missed in my nightly walk-through. When I snatched it from her, she was angry. She was hungry, and I had stolen from her.

But she didn’t understand. I had something much better for her than yesterday’s dry goods. But my assurance of warm flapjacks covered in “snow” (this is what we call powdered sugar) was no consolation to her. She wanted that cereal and she wanted in now.

Now that scrap of cereal would have been just fine. It wouldn’t have hurt her any to eat it and though it wouldn’t have satisfied her hunger, it would have done well for her mood. But as a mother, and much taller, I have a broader view of the situation.

You see, I know that a tiny piece of cereal in this moment is good, but not wonderful. It’s decent, it fulfills a desire, but it’s nothing compared with the delicious tummy hug that would be pancakes, if only she would have patience enough to wait for them.

And there’s the crux, with kids. Their tiny little brains can’t yet comprehend all that ours as parents have tucked inside. They have no idea the things we know.

And guess what… our tiny brains can’t begin to imagine the splendid things in store for us, would we be willing to wait on God to deliver them, and refrain from scraping the tile for leftovers because we can’t contain our hunger.

I can see the future

AJ had been acting out all week, just little acts of rebellion that for other kids would go unnoticed, but for her was utter defiance. She continued shaking a loud rattle after bedtime after I’d told her to stop, and when I told her the second time, she set it down with one last good shake to spite me.

At the grocery store, the twins were angels, sitting quietly in the cart as I scolded AJ up and down the aisles because she was running into people, lagging behind, and then finally, climbing on the cart – the cardinal sin of grocery shopping, similar to climbing up the slide.

To top it off, I had a soda and pretzel we were sharing, but the rule is always that a child must ask before taking a drink. She never asked once, so I had to put the soda away, under the cart. As we were checking out, I caught her under the cart sneaking a drink. I turned around, pulled her up, and smacked her chin (yes, I did), gave her a good long stare, and turned back around and chatted with her sisters as if nothing happened.

All the way to the car she was crying, not from a sore chin, but a sore soul. Her feelings were hurt, and I was pleased, not because I’m a sick mother who beats her children, but because I knew there was still hope for her.

So I spent the drive home explaining why I had hit her–and I told her what did NOT fuel my actions. I told her, AJ, did you know I can see the future?

She stopped crying and looked right at me, bewildered at the thought that her mother was in fact the super hero she imagined. I told her I can see her future self, years from now, all grown up, and in moments like this, I didn’t like what I saw. The bottom line, I told her, was that I was afraid for her.

You MUST understand something… I’m NOT angry with you. I’m terrified that you’ll grow up to be a liar (the way you sneaked a drink), a thief (you stole that drink too), and worst of all, that you’ll disobey God the way you disobeyed me tonight.

She tried to argue, I was thirsty, and all I could think about was her making excuses to her boss one day when she steals from petty cash, but I really needed the money. I told her (as I’ve said before) that one day her life could depend on her following someone’s orders and that she is seven years old now and would have to learn to obey no matter what. And painful moments like this one were necessary to impress that upon her.

I then told her I could see the other future AJ, the one who is kind and generous, never goes back on her word, and loves the Lord with all her heart. She smiled and said that’s the girl she wanted to be. I asked her if she knew what she should do next time in order to ensure that she would be that girl–woman. She smiled with a nod and hugged me.

The message was received–by her, and by me. I praised God for His patience with me in my own insolence. And that’s what I think about now. I think about my future self, and I shudder to think who I could be and where I could end up without God’s guidance in my life. And I think about just how obedient, or disobedient, I have been in following His direction.

You know, I think that’s what makes it easy to understand AJ though. I know right and wrong. I know what God expects of me, but sometimes I just want what I want. I want to read a book about the Bible rather than the Bible itself. I want to check my email rather than pray, listening to what God has for me today. I want to take a drink, even though I shouldn’t. I want the cereal on the floor.

I know there are things He can see that I can’t. He has better things in store for me and he knows the me I can really be if I’m obedient and patient enough, and want it badly enough, more than the childish things I want now.

And so God says to me, I can see what you can’t see, and so in this you must trust me.

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