The Way They Should Go

“I don’t understand.  I asked God to take away all of my sins, and I pray again and I ask Him to, and then I do it again!  I don’t understand that.”

Those words from a 5 year old will stop you dead in your tracks in the middle of the kitchen, washed grapes dripping a puddle on the kitchen floor.  They were complete with teary eyes and a dramatic reenactment of how fervently she asks God to take away all of her sins.  Yes, she had just come out of the corner for pestering her sister at the dinner table.

There are moments I feel like God just peels open the soul of my daughter and lets me see what is really going on.  When He does, I see there are deeper thoughts than I expect.  That she wrestles in her mind and heart with things that seem out of place in a 5-year-old.  This is a question not to be answered flippantly or with a stern reminder that she still has dinner to eat.  So many things tumble over each other in my mind.

Oh honey, this is just the beginning of this struggle.  It brings tears of joy to my eyes to know that you are already desiring to rid your self of sin.  That you have been doing something about it - and the right thing - in talking to God and asking Him to take them away. Your heart is broken by your inability to try and try and by your actions live a life fully pleasing to God.  Just that it bothers you is so beautiful.  But that’s a little too big to try to explain to you at the moment. 

At the same time I’m sorry you see this struggle already, because this is going to be life long.  I don’t want you to be frustrated or overwhelmed by the battle.  Defeated by your own nature.  I know I’ve felt that way some times.  Are you starting this road so young?  Can’t we take big thoughts like this from you for a little while longer?  Your little ears aren’t quite ready to hear this yet either, I suppose.

It was last summer that she said the “official” prayer asking Jesus to forgive her sins (no-nos) so she could go to heaven (and give Him big hugs and say thank you very much).  It was sparked by her questions about a funeral at our church (we weren’t even attending, we were just in the parking lot!).  She asked if the man was going to rise from the dead… which led to asking what happens when we die… which led to asking if we would all be in heaven together… etc.  In the end she asked if she could ask God right now to have Jesus take away all her no-nos.  Since she is a child who asks many, many, many (did I mention many?) questions without necessarily intending to do anything with the information immediately, I was suprised she wanted to do this right now.  I was again surprised (and amused, and touched, and teary-eyed) when she didn’t see any need for my involvement, but bowed her head and prayed out loud and fervently on the spot.  Right there in the carseat as I was driving down the road.

I know there is doubt about how much a four-year-old can understand at that age.  But given her five-year-old questions I’m not about to question her understanding to much.

Her bedtime prayers are sometimes rote, and sometimes laughter-supressingly long, specific and outlandish.  Several times, mostly because of very tough-on-both-of-us discipline days, she has prayed in the evening for God to keep her from doing wrong things.  I have smiled at this and loved that she thought of it.  It was never a specific request or suggestion of mine that she do it.  I never realized she really expects to get up the next morning sin-free and perfect.  And that she hurts when she is not.  Why would God entrust such a beautiful little soul to me?!  He knows me, I would think He would think twice about that.  And yet He did.

I beckoned her over to me for another hug (the first coming after her apology for disobeying).  Then I held her little face in my hands.  “Mommy struggles with that to, sweetie.  I haven’t stopped sinning either.  It’s frustrating, huh?”  She nods in agreement.  “And you know what?  You are probably going to keep sinning even when you don’t want to.  When you asked God to forgive your sins, He forgave them.  And that means He will never, ever be mad at you for them again.  It doesn’t mean you will just stop sinning now.  But - the important thing is that when you do, you go to God and tell him that you did.  You say you’re sorry and ask Him to help you do better.  If you need to apologize to Mommy, or Daddy or Lydia you do that to.  And you know that God forgives you for every sin you ever do and loves you very much.  And so does Mommy.”

That’s as close as I can come to exactly what I said.  I want to go back and refine it.  I want to deal with the forgiving and God being mad thing more clearly.  I want to clarify that God does already know what she did, it’s just good for her to acknowledge it to God.  I want to tell her I still struggle with it - and the struggle is good.  Resigning yourself to it and giving up is not.  I want to hold her there and talk about it more.  Keep her in that moment so I can soothe her heart, address every concern and perfect every doctrinal point.  Alas, that is not how these moments work.

I got one shot.  I had only the moments contained within a 5-year-old’s mid-dinner attention span to do justice to this topic.  Maybe that’s why God gives us as long as he does with them under our roof.  And maybe that’s why one mentor of mine told me of waking up in the middle of the night thinking of one more thing she had to tell her son in the 12 months before he went off to college.

Afterward as I stood there watching her finish her organic fruit bar I was again amazed at how much God has taught me about Him through my girls.  How many ways I see my relationship to Him reflected in their relationship to my husband and I.  How much He must want to hold me on the couch with my Bible and pen, but my Mommy-sized attention span has already moved on to dishes, dust and diapers.  And all the times He uses my daughters questions to gently remind me of how I am to handle my sin - or to use my own words to remind me of His total forgiveness and how much He loves me.

All that in just moments this evening.

I do something that totally befuddles my husband.  I know I do it, I know he doesn’t understand, but I can’t help myself.

I can see it at the end of the evening as we put dishes in the kitchen, start turning off lights in the family room.  He’s ready to go to bed now.  We’ve put the girls to bed, had dinner, put those dishes… well… in the kitchen at least, maybe watched a DVD of a favorite Scifi show… it is now time to go to bed.  It says so right here beside his freakishly impeccable internal chronometer. 

However, I know that I have some of the neighborhood women & kids coming over tomorrow, so I should really clean up those dishes in the kitchen.  Maybe find the coffee table… I could swear it was in here somewhere earlier today.

So I start doing those things and hubby will keep himself busy for a few minutes with something.  Then he’ll usually stalk me for a few minutes, judging how long I’ll be.  At some point he’ll go upstairs and get ready for bed.  Then, often about 10 minutes later, he’ll appear at the bottom of the steps to see if I’m coming yet.  And he does this even on nights he’s not looking for… well, we’re all grown-ups here.  You know what I mean. 

But of course, I’m still puttering around.

He just doesn’t understand why I do this to myself.  After all, I HATE morning.  Mornings are evil and should be avoided at all costs.  I can barely breathe and brush my teeth at the same time when I first get up in the morning.  Interestingly God gave me daughters that wake up mid-sentence with smiles and hopping and narrating complete run-on epics of dreams that must be recounted in minute detail with much exuberance and little breathing.  I’ve told God this was an error and He really should check His records.  I’m sure the replacement part is in the mail.

And yet, baffling as it is, I sit here at 11:10pm writing to all of you.  The necessary spaces half cleaned up from my meandering straightening.  I LOVE this time.  In college, this is when I did my best work.  I once wrote an entire final paper analyzing a Supreme Court Employment Law case starting at 11pm the night before.  I had done all the research, but wrote the whole paper starting at 11pm and finishing around 4:30am.  I got an A.

FINALLY my brain is quiet.  My house is quiet.  No one has any expectations of me for the next 8 hours - and I’m supposed to miss the whole thing??  Are you kidding!

I have framed 6 pictures that have been sitting around in various corners of my house.  I cleaned off most of the dining room table.  I did find half the coffee table and I have strong suspicions as to where the other half went.  And that stack of stuff that’s been accumulating beside my desk?  I know what’s in it now.  Did you really think I was going to say I went through it and put it away - the poor thing is only in it’s infancy!  It has a good 18 inches growth yet before it reaches it’s full potential - and we’re strong supporters of exploring and reaching for maximum potential in this house.  We’re homeschoolers.

I still have within my sight a random large piece of cardboard, Grandma’s Attic book, KTRose’s writing paper, a brush, husband’s sneakers, 4 picture frames, empty paper bag, screwdriver, plastic dinosaur, rubber light-up squishy dinosaur, “magic” marker, teddy bear shaped blank paper book and mini-karioke machine to put away.  And that’s not even counting the steps - which I can also unfortunately see.  BUT I get to pick all that up with no mention of pee-pee, anyone kicking anyone else, no joyful “watch the birdie’s wings move!” (it was real and it was dead - AcK!) or really any noise except the faint highway noises coming in from the open windows.

I may stay up all night.