I come from one of those families that puts all the magnets
and pictures on the refrigerator. I can
even remember the crude Crayola drawings from my first grandchild, one where he
traced the outline of his hand and eventually drew a turkey. Now that he is 19 and in college, I don't get
any Crayola drawings from him.
Grandchild number two is his sister and a few years younger, but even
now, as an eighth grader, I never get any color drawing masterpieces from her.
Third grandchild is in the seventh grade and I occasionally
get photographs of him, busily involved in one of his sporting or band
activities, but no white paper with crayon pictures. That leaves the two youngest grandchildren,
second grade and pre-school. Those are
the ones that keep my refrigerator covered with drawings and pictures of just
about every season and holiday.
All of this is to introduce you to a story I read
recently. A five year-old girl brought
home a crayon drawing which had been a project for her kindergarten class. When
she delivered it to her mom, she was crying.
Some "mean boys" had made fun of her project picture. Now, arriving at home, she was still upset
because her picture didn't get picked to be placed on the class bulletin board.
The little girl went to sit on the front porch, unable to be
consoled by the kind words of her mother.
Even though mom hung the picture on the refrigerator and complimented
her work, she continued to cry. She sat
there for some time, re-living the events of the day........and still crying.
Then it was time for Dad to get home. As he pulled his car into the driveway he
knew something was wrong. He could tell
his daughter had not had a good day.
When he exited the car he was met by his little girl, now almost
screaming, and trying to tell him of her disastrous day.
Her father scooped her up in his arms and held her tight. The longer he held her close to himself, the
hurt and hours of crying subsided. It
was as if the caress of her father and the encouragement that everything was
going to turn out just fine, made her aware he understood and his understanding
became good medicine for her.
Her story made me think of some of the wrestling I have in
my prayer life. I will admit for a long
time I looked upon prayer as just one of the routines God expected me to
do. Like the little girl in the story, I
realized one day there are events that happen in my life and I feel so empty
when attempting to make the bad go away.
Those bad things kept haunting me and sometimes controlled me, until the
day I learned that prayer is like climbing into God's lap and feeling his arms
around me, drawing me closer to him. He
understands, and just the knowledge of his presence and his concern for me, makes things better.
What is bugging you today?
The God who loves you wants you to know he understands and he
cares. He is longing to handle your
tears, your stress, your difficulty. We
all need to experience his arms surrounding us, and his willingness to forgive,
and his desire for us to be whole and complete.
<ronbwriting@gmail.com>
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