15 February 2011

Believing Right

I'm at the sink, carrots getting peeled when she comes to talk.  Says "Santa isn't real, you know."

"You're right," I say.  But she's thinking something so she continues with a juxtaposition.  "What he really does is go around giving people chopped off heads."

I do a double take, stop peeling.  "What, honey?"  She repeats again and again, her "ch" sounds more like a "t" and so I'm not sure, but yes, it's truly what she's saying.

"How do you know that?  I'm not so sure he gives chopped off heads."

"He does, Mama, he really does."  I don't think any convincing of mine is going to triumph so I stop.  The person who at once says Santa isn't real and then he is and he gives chopped off heads has some unclear thinking going on.

I shake my head and finish peeling, considering how often I'm the one with the unclear thinking.

How I worry about the future.  Get angry when there's thoughtless waste.  Compare my lot to another's.  Believe I don't have what it takes.  Consider my efforts a failure.  Resign myself to negative ideas about myself and my talents.  Have a hard time being open, honest, fearing rejection.

I say there's a God.  But I don't always live in light of His character.  The One who spoke to the masses saying, "Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom."  The One who spoke through His servant saying, "being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Jesus Christ."

These truths, these promises.  I've got to align my flighty thinking to them.

My parents visit.  We spend the morning at a park then decide to walk over to the toy store.  It's closing today and it's all 50% off.  Little Timmy fights and cries the whole walk, angry over having to leave the slides.  He doesn't understand where we're going.  He chooses not to trust my leading as good.  He won't rest in my plans for him.

I don't blame him, he's not capable quite yet of grasping his choices. 

I am.  The choice is continually before me.  Trusting His leading as good.  Resting in His plans for me. 

Believing that if I have to leave the slides, it's only because we're going to the toy store.

Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead?  Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion?  If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!
Luke 11.11-13

His gifts to me this week: #278-300

Visit from my parents, Food from the farm, My mom reading, hugging, loving my children,
My dad working with my children, listening to them and loving them,
Red-legged frogs, Generous friends caring for our children,
Praying for His people, Crying healing tears, A kiss from my old neighbor now at a retirement home,
French Toast Strata, Beef in the crockpot, Children wanting to go out into the wind,
Pruning vines, bushes and trees with my Dad,
Time with my husband...my true, loving Valentine, Good truth and it's challenge to me,
Timmy's joy over animals, Walking with my friend, Rest, Timely carrots,
Staplers to fix furniture, Little girl yelling loudly, "God is perfect!"

Text: Luke 12.32, Phil. 1.6