Things My Children Are Teaching Me: Crayon on the Wall, Part 1

She had just recently figured out how to escape her crib, and early one morning, before I was up, E snuck out of bed and busied herself- a clear act of sneaker-y, which I did not yet know her little soul was capable of.  I came downstairs to find three giant scoops of food in the dog's bowl, sufficient evidence that she had spent some time in her playroom, and a beautiful mosaic stretched across my dining room wall.

She could hardly wait to show me her handiwork. She showed me the dog's bowl, squealing, pointing, beaming with pride. As she grabbed my hand in hers and led me into the dining room, I prepared my heart for what I might find... 

This, right here, is what I found.

A gamut of emotions welling up in me, I stopped to snap this pic, and in that moment she looked up at me, so proud of herself, and she said in the tiniest little voice, "Isn't it exquisite?"

Oh for heavens sake.

First, where did she learn the word exquisite?

*Heart melting right here.*

I tried to look on the bright side.  Good, I said to myself.  Now I have a good excuse to paint this room way sooner than we planned!

All those thoughts and emotions swirling around my head, I looked down to a little girl looking up at me with joy-filled eyes.  

And I looked at my wall.

And I looked back at her.  

I wanted to ignore the fact that my wall was now covered in crimson and cadmium green. I wanted to celebrate with her. I wanted to praise her for her creative spirit and her boldness to live uninhibited, following what her heart had prompted her hands to do.

But.

As proud as I was of her,
for being so proud of herself,

I still had to sit her down

and talk with her

about how it was 
not 
ok

to draw on the wall.

Paper, yes,

but not the wall,

or the furniture,

or anything else.

Just paper.

Confusion in her eyes spoke words she couldn't articulate.  In her eyes what she had done was good.  She was expecting praise from me, for the good work she had done.  Even so, I couldn't just ignore the fact that she had drawn on a place that she was not supposed to draw.

As I stood there I had another little "I see what you're doing there" moment, where I saw myself from God's perspective.

E is young and fresh and inexperienced.  She doesn't yet understand the ways of the world, and it is my job to teach her. In that moment, as I held her my eyes were opened to a bigger picture- a picture of God holding me, talking to me, correcting me.

I am the same as my little girl. Finite. Limited. Inexperienced. I don't understand the ways of God, and He is teaching me. And I think God might be saying to me- more often than He'd like- "yes, that is a great idea, but you didn't ask me about it first."  Or, "Yes, that is a great idea, but let's do it My way."

I found this gem in Proverbs:

My son, if you receive my words and treasure up my commandments with you, making your ear attentive to wisdom and inclining your heart to understanding; yes, if you call out for insight and raise your voice for understanding, if you seek it like silver and search for it as for hidden treasures, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God. For the LORD gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding; he stores up sound wisdom for the upright; he is a shield to those who walk in integrity, guarding the paths of justice and watching over the way of his saints. Proverbs 2:1-8

We, the people, the Christians, the church goers.... we get carried away, sometimes.  We get the greatest and grandest ideas.  We are filled with vision, and strategy, and creativity, and cool catch-phrases, and we get carried away, sometimes. We make good plans. Plans for good, good things. 

If we are not careful, we can get carried away with our grand plans, or practical decisions, and those beautiful seedlings of an idea can get set in motion before we really stop to ask if the thing we are doing is being carried out the way God had planned.

I've been writing this out for several months now, breaking it down, and filling in all the things God is teaching me through this little moment in my dining room two years ago.  The longer I sift through this, the more deeply I realize how much I'm struggling with this very thing.  Maybe you are too.  

I so desperately want to go, and do.  I have so many plans and ideas, and I picture myself like a little child, standing at the feet of Jesus, arms full of ideas like trinkets being offered up, saying, "Look, Jesus!  Aren't these wonderful??  Don't you just love them?  Aren't you proud of me??"

And in the rawest, most vulnerable places of my heart, I find myself saying things like, "Don't you understand Lord? Don't you see that this is good?  That I'm doing all of this for you?"

And he picks me up, and says in the softest, most gentle and loving way that only he can, "Let's do it my way."

Part 2
Part 3