The other day, I had to get onto Caleb for throwing a fit.
Scratch that. It wasn’t just the other day. It’s every day. Several times a day.
Let me give you a for instance. Last night, it was getting close to bedtime, and Caleb decided he wanted a snack. I told him no.
He screwed up his little face into the most pathetic expression he could muster and said, “Momma, I need Chex!”
I explained to him that no, he did not need Chex, but he didn’t like my decision.
He was petulant. He started wailing at the top of his lungs. Right in my face.
I wanted to point to the clock and show him that in just a few minutes it would be time for me to fix him a glass of warm milk, and his little tummy would be satisfied. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. I wanted to yell, “Don’t you understand I’m trying to do what’s best for you?”
And I might have, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he kind of reminded me of someone I know.
See, sometimes I get this idea in my head that I know what is best for me. I decide what I want and I lay it out before the Lord in my prayers.
And he tells me no.
I say, “but God, I need it.”
And gently, lovingly, he tells me “No, Amy, you don’t.”
I am petulant. I wail at the top of my lungs. Right in his face.
I’m sure God wants to shake me and tell me he knows what’s best. That he sees beyond the moment and knows there is a day coming where he will satisfy my desires with something better than what I am asking for today.
But he knows I won’t listen. So just like I did with Caleb last night, he just pulls me into his arms and holds me while he makes me wait.
I am still such a child in so many ways. So I am thankful for a loving, caring Father who is willing to correct me over and over and over again.
Hopefully, I can be that kind of parent to my kids. But it’s hard. I sure hope Caleb grows out of his fit-throwing at some point.
And I hope I do, too.