This is ok.
The other day my daughter had hoped to be able to play outside with her neighborhood friends – one of her most favorite things to do.
It was a beautiful day, and we had every intention of spending some time outside.
But we had some errands to do first.
She was a good sport and very well-behaved. We even got compliments.
But the errands were taking longer than expected.
As time dragged on, she was still being patient, yet full of the anticipation that she’d ultimately be able to play outside with her friends.
By the time we were headed home, it was getting dark.
The evening didn’t go as planned.
When we had to tell her that it had gotten too late to play outside, the downward spiral of emotions ensued.
Tears and sadness, anger and rage, resentment, heartbreak…
And I really felt sad for her, too. She had been such a patient, well-behaved girl. I wanted her to be able to play outside with her friends.
I think we can all relate to this feeling. It almost goes beyond disappointment – to something deeper, like disillusionment, or a world-shattering despondency.
It wasn’t merely an unmet desire. It was the shattering of a hope that was buttressed by faith that had been put into action.
Although she is a very sweet girl
It’s painful. It’s confusing. It makes us want to cry and scream and wail and fight. The world didn’t give us what we wanted – even when we gave the world what it wanted.
Or, as it may go in many of our minds – God didn’t give us what we wanted, even when we gave Him what He wanted.
As I watched her go through this, I still knew that I was “working all things for the good of my daughter” … the errands were, in large part, for her and our family – even though she couldn’t see it.
And I valued her sacrifice. I noticed and greatly appreciated the fact that she had given up her greatest hope for the sake of the ‘errands’ which she couldn’t appreciate at all.
What’s more, because she trusted her parents, and endured what she couldn’t understand, it made us want to give her even more.
In fact, the next day was filled with plenty of friends and lots of outside.
While she had been throwing her fit, I saw myself in her. I completely felt her pain and confusion. But I also had a thought that what if, in a sudden moment of faith, she stopped crying, paused for a moment and then said, “You know, Dad, I know you love me. I know you want what’s best for me. I’m really sad and disappointed, but I trust you. This is ok.”
What would I have even done?! I would probably have had to stop the car, get her out of her car seat and hug and kiss her and tell her, “yes! My daughter! That’s right! That’s the truth! You understand! And you believe me! Don’t ever forget that!”
How my heart would overflow even more for her!
Do you think we could give that kind of response to the Lord when our hopes have been shattered?
Could we say, “You know, Dad, I know you love me. I know you want what’s best for me. I’m really sad and disappointed, but I trust you. This is ok.” ?