I get to be at home with my happy little family today. The Gavinator is after cords again. Kid loves 'em. Strings, cords, wires...I really need a completely wi-fi house. Has anyone seen a cordless lamp? I need that.
Right now I'm trying to write, while rescuing him from himself every few minutes. But then, every few minutes he comes over and pulls himself up on my knees and stands there trying to talk. He's so adorable, and it's so hard to fathom that one day he is going to be 12 or 13 and we will be having adult conversations (and arguments)
It's hard to believe he's not always going clinging to my pant leg on tottery legs, looking up to me with those adoring eyes.
I find myself wondering if I don't look a little that way to God. I've seen a preacher try to show us God's knowledge by drawing a big line from floor to ceiling and placing a little 1/4" speck next to it to show man's wisdom.
But I think my son demonstrates it best as he doggedly crawls after his own interests -- to his own endangerment.
He knows so little. He doesn't know why things hurts, or what pain is, so he cries at every discomfort. He doesn't know that he is sleepy, he just knows that something isn't happy, so he cries in confusion. He sees something he wants, but he is often confused how to propel himself to it. He knows that we talk, but he can't fully figure out how to communicate the same way and fills the air with his "mama" and "ga-duhm" and "ba-bah" sounds.
But I never tire of his trying to learn. I never tire of those two eyes staring up adoringly at me.
Suddenly I think I know what the Proverbs writer means when he says "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." Maybe we do not know why we keep getting pulled away of the "cords" in our life. Maybe we don't know why we face discomfort. And yes, we are all too whiny.
But when we stand there at His pant legs looking up at him, we are never ignored. Instead, we find ourselves being lifted up into His wonderful arms of love.
Right now I'm trying to write, while rescuing him from himself every few minutes. But then, every few minutes he comes over and pulls himself up on my knees and stands there trying to talk. He's so adorable, and it's so hard to fathom that one day he is going to be 12 or 13 and we will be having adult conversations (and arguments)
It's hard to believe he's not always going clinging to my pant leg on tottery legs, looking up to me with those adoring eyes.
I find myself wondering if I don't look a little that way to God. I've seen a preacher try to show us God's knowledge by drawing a big line from floor to ceiling and placing a little 1/4" speck next to it to show man's wisdom.
But I think my son demonstrates it best as he doggedly crawls after his own interests -- to his own endangerment.
He knows so little. He doesn't know why things hurts, or what pain is, so he cries at every discomfort. He doesn't know that he is sleepy, he just knows that something isn't happy, so he cries in confusion. He sees something he wants, but he is often confused how to propel himself to it. He knows that we talk, but he can't fully figure out how to communicate the same way and fills the air with his "mama" and "ga-duhm" and "ba-bah" sounds.
But I never tire of his trying to learn. I never tire of those two eyes staring up adoringly at me.
Suddenly I think I know what the Proverbs writer means when he says "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." Maybe we do not know why we keep getting pulled away of the "cords" in our life. Maybe we don't know why we face discomfort. And yes, we are all too whiny.
But when we stand there at His pant legs looking up at him, we are never ignored. Instead, we find ourselves being lifted up into His wonderful arms of love.
