“But Mom, I really love him. So much.”
I try to hide my smile as I navigate traffic from the front seat. My kindergartner, Tate, is telling me all about the man she’s going to marry — a 5th grader named Nick, who helps out in her class.
“Well, why do you look so sad?” I ask.
“Because I’m afraid that by the time we’re grown-ups, he’ll have forgotten about me and won’t remember to marry me.”
I want to tell her, You know, you’re probably right. By the time you’re marrying age, he’ll have moved on. And you know what? He’s a 10-year-old boy — he probably doesn’t think about you when he leaves your classroom. He’s at home right now playing soccer in his backyard, not a care in the world. And really? I hope he has forgotten about you. ‘Cause if he hasn’t, we’ve got issues.
But I don’t, of course. I keep my face concerned and sympathetic, because I want Tate to know I take her concerns seriously, the way my Heavenly Father takes my ridiculousness seriously, too.
“I can understand, Tate. Why don’t you pray about this? How do you think God can help you with this?”
A few second of silence. “Well…. I guess — I guess He can help me not be sad.”
True, I think. He can also be your comfort, your keeper, the lover of your soul. But how do I explain this to an almost six-year-old?
“Yes, He can do that. And He can take your sadness and walk with you through it, because He loves you. You know–”
“Hey, this is a Jack Johnson song! I love this one. Turn it up, please.”
Moment passed, as is usually the case with little ones. I smile and turn it up for her, because I like it, too.
I wonder how often God smiles, too, at my human-perspective ridiculousness. When I come to Him with, “God, why must I spend so much time folding laundry, only to find it dirty again?” or, “Why is it so hot today? I want it cold” or, “I don’t wanna get out of bed yet” — or any other form of “Why must things be the way they are?” — I’m so glad He cares.
He doesn’t brush me off with a “Get over it.” He listens, He sits with me sympathetically, and He walks with me through the challenges, both big and small.
But I bet He also laughs lovingly at His silly daughter. He shakes His head at my finite perspective, knowing infinitely better than I what’s in store, what’s good for me, how much He has me in His hands.
Puppy love — or any other trite situation in the big scheme of world issues — matters to God. It matters, because we matter. He loves us. He is love.
What’s your “puppy love” situation? Are you taking it to your Heavenly Father, silliness and all?
by Tsh Oxenreider of Simple Mom