After three years of teaching, I have a hard time getting out of teacher mode. I have found myself on more than one occasion at the grocery store giving “the look” to some unsuspecting and unsupervised child thinking he could get away with scaling a shelf. These kids have learned very quickly that teachers are EVERYWHERE, lurking around every corner, just waiting to strike.
Kids are funny creatures. Blatantly honest. Sweetly innocent. Curious sponges. At times as tough as leather and at other times as fragile as a baby bird.
Some days I’m amazed at the things kids do and say. Then there are days like today, when I realize I have much more in common with the little munchkins than I’d like to admit.
It was too nice out not to run, so I laced up my shoes and hit the pavement.
I rounded a corner along my familiar route and immediately noticed a four year old boy playing soccer in the city bus parking lot. Cute little kid. He couldn’t have been much bigger than the ball. No sooner had he kicked the ball than his mom reached down, scooped him up into one arm and the soccer ball into the other.
Her arms remained firmly wrapped around his torso as he began to kick and scream. It was clear he wanted the ball and he wanted to play. His eyes welled up with tears as he did everything in his power to get out of her grasp. She stood calmly and knowingly, but would not let go. He stretched his little body to it’s limit trying to grab the ball, but to no avail. His crying became louder and more insistent. Just as I began to feel for the little guy, I heard a loud roar. The city bus made the corner and flew past us, almost without warning. I couldn’t believe how silently it had come and how suddenly it was there.
Then a thought came to mind. Am I like that little boy, Lord? Kicking and screaming in frustration as my Heavenly Father firmly holds me back. But I want the ball! I want to play! How could you keep that from me? Why are you doing this, Lord?! Do you even hear me?
In my ignorance, I have no idea the danger just around the corner and how much it could cost me. So I take in another deep breath and exhale words of distrust, of unbelief, even anger. I stretch my body and fight my Father. I push against those precious, scarred hands. I kick against the One whose love often overwhelms this unworthy soul.
My Father. He stands there, eyes forward, undaunted. With love on His face, and in His incredible patience, He holds on. Not letting up one finger, He tightens His grip.
Trust me, He whispers.
And He whispers the same to you today. Will you? Will I? Will we turn our gaze from the object or situation consuming our every thought for long enough to see the expression on His face? Because there we will see that He knows something we may not understand this side of Heaven. And so trust we will. Trust we must. And hasn’t He proven He is worthy of such?
“ Trust in Him at all times, you people; Pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us.” Psalm 62:8
