When everything slides off onto the floor…

I stand at the stove, smashing the toasted cheese sandwich with the flat of a metal spatula. It sizzles as I push it down, cheese melting, oozing out into the pan. Jeff is talking in a low voice. I slice apples in silence. We’re both discouraged.

This church thing—it’s hard. This parenting thing—it’s hard. This finance thing, this marriage thing, this faith thing, this life thing—it’s hard.

We both shake our heads. Why did God entrust us with so many things when we’re so pathetically ill-prepared? Why did He think we could handle all this?

Heidi patters into the kitchen, smiling. She can smell the toasted cheese and is ready for lunch. She wears a ratty yellow Hello Kitty t-shirt pulled over the top of a red velvet Christmas dress. Her hair is a wild tangle. I can’t help but gather her up in my arms and kiss her smiling mouth just to inhale her ridiculous sweetness.

“Here, Heidi,” I say as I set her back down, “You carry your lunch plate to the table.” She raises her arms enthusiastically, eager to help. As I lower the plate into her hands, I already know what will happen.

And it does.

She turns quickly—as children do, with no concept of centrifugal force—and the sandwiches and apple slices slide right off and onto the floor.

Her shoulders slump.

Of course I kneel down, right beside her, and together we pick up the slices and sandwich together. And while we’re both down there I kiss her again, assure her it’s ok, and tell her to run along and enjoy her lunch.

No harm done.

Seconds later Dutch runs in, asks for his, and I lower his plate into his outstretched arms. Of course he’s older, and just a little wiser (barely), so he slowly turns and walks carefully to the table, lunch intact.

I turn to Jeff. He smiles back. We’re both thinking the same thing.

God’s so gracious. He entrusts us with the plate, even though He knows we will let the whole lunch slide out onto the floor. And then He’ll stoop down low, right beside us, and help us pick it up. He’ll kiss us in the process, assure us it’s ok, then send us off to keep learning, growing. And when we’re just a little wiser (barely), down the road, we’ll know how to navigate the turns just a little bit better.

At least a little less of our lunch will wind up on the floor.

~

 {May this perspective rule our minds this week. Thanks for reading.}