I don't know about you, but God has some creative ways of speaking to me. He tends to use Emily Yan a lot to show me little insights about myself. This has been a liberating and freeing thing, because before Yan came into my life-I truely don't think I knew what unconditional love was. No matter what she does or how many times she does it, I totally love her and am still head over heels crazy about her. This is comforting, because I know I'm imperfect in my love-but God must totally delight over me.
Anyways, back to my story. Tonight I tried once again to make a new meal that Yan would eat. The child must be out to prove that someone can exist on milk and goldfish crackers for like a year at a time. I tried nachos tonight...yummy, right? Chips, beef, beans, cheese-no go folks. She only would eat the chips. It's been years since I had nachos, so I enjoyed them. I let her keep munching on her chips, put in a Sesame Street and went to my office to do a little work.
Lately, I've been trying to sit in my office and wait until she gets me after a video or activity is done. I want her to ask for help, communicate, something...just to try to get her to interact with me. I heard her get up and move, but just waited to see if she would ask for help. Well, I sat for a while and kept hearing the trash lid open and shut, her move, and then sigh and huff. This kept happening over and over and over again-but the sighs were getting a little louder. Finally I couldn't resist seeing what she was doing. I walked out in the kitchen and she had the plate of chip pieces on the floor (you know when there are 100's of little pieces left at the bottom of the bag?). She was taking one piece at time, standing up, opening the trash can (the automatic opener just recently broke), throwing that piece away and then bending down starting all over again. At the rate she was going, it would have taken a couple hours to throw away all the leftover pieces. I looked at her and said, "Would you like help?" She nodded. I opened the trash, dumped the whole plate and she cheered.
How many times do I look just like her? Trying to pick up my teeny, tiny pieces and take care of them? I know the goal, but can't see a better way, a more efficient way, a wiser way-and I do not want to ask for help? Thank God, that He steps in, takes over and cleans things up quickly. Now...if I could only learn to always ask before I even waste time trying to do things my way!