Little Helpers

I have written two blog posts in the past week.  This might be a new record for me.  I am reminded, however, of why I am having trouble blogging these days.  Because I can't write a short blog post.  They always come out to be 6 pages long or something, taking an entire naptime to write.  It's not working so well for me.  I don't usually want to use an entire naptime to write, because there are other more pressing things to attend to.  Like eating something.  Or just sitting and staring out the window and listening to the quiet for a few minutes.  Or not.  It's more like the best time of day to do some dishes and laundry and maybe even get dinner on so that I won't have to be cooking during Grumpy Time.  Grumpy Time usually hits around dinner-prep time, and it has taken me 2 years to realize that maybe this means I should choose a different time of day for dinner-prep.

Oh, and excuse me for a moment.  My 2nd born has a long string of something hanging out of her mouth and she is standing on her head and playing with it.  One of those moments.  They happen.

Well, that went well.  I got back and she had cleaned it up by crawling through it.  Thanks, girl.  You're such a big helper!  I write this even as she takes all three nicely folded blankets on the couch and hurls them to the floor.  Okay, so maybe we need to keep working on the big helper thing.  It will come.

And now she stands here, trying to get the blankets back onto the sofa.  And it's not going very well.  She is small.  The blankets are big.  And she is huffing and puffing and tugging and it's not working for her.  The more she huffs and puffs and panics, the worse it goes, in fact.  She pulls harder.  Tugs harder.  But it doesn't help.  She gives up and leaves them in the floor and walks away to find other pursuits more worthy of her time and effort.

All she had to do when she was struggling so was look up at me and say "Mama?"  And I could easily have helped her.  In fact, I don't usually wait to be asked.  I just help.  But she's usually so busy looking down at whatever she's struggling with - whether it's putting a puzzle together or pulling giant blankets from the floor - that she doesn't even realize she's been helped.  She thinks she's done it herself.

I rarely get thanked.  But I help her again next time anyway.  Because I'm her mommy, and that's what mommies do.

Of course, I'm not always that happy about doing it.  Sometimes children can need help at very inconvenient times.  Usually when I've excused myself to use the facilities for two minutes.  That's when life always falls apart, it seems.

Why am I so quick to forget that my Father is always there to help me?  That He is always gracious and loving?  When I'm struggling with loads that seem too heavy - even if they aren't really as heavy as I make them out to be - He is always gentle and kind to me and ready to help.  He doesn't find it inconvenient or annoying.  It doesn't matter how many times I need help, He is always there with those mighty, everlasting arms.  I struggle and struggle and sometimes I think I have succeeded at licking a problem myself.  When I should be recognizing all of "my" strength as God's strength - as God's mercy and grace - and thanking Him for His aid.  For giving all credit where all credit is due.  I thank Him for His gracious patience toward me.

May I remember this the next time that I run to help a child in need at an inopportune moment.  Before I laugh too much at her complete assurance that she just conquered the problem herself, oblivious to my involvement in the conquering process - may I remember to pause and thank God for enabling me to respond well to the perceived inconvenience of the moment, or pause to repent if I did not`.

She's at it again.  Trying to get those blankets up on the couch.  I'll go help her this time.  And if she doesn't remember to thank me...I'll just smile and say, "You're so much like your mama.  We both have a lot to learn."

Thanking God for His patient instruction in righteousness,

Me