Tag: Trust God

Broken Crayon – Daddy Fix It

Posted on by S. J. Little

 

“Draw. Draw.” My toddler begged.

I reached for the crayons. “Okay, we can do some colouring.”

She helped me get some paper and our mini colouring table.

I passed her the open crayon box. She took a blue crayon out, then handed a green one to me.

“This one is for me?”

She pointed to one of the papers. “Mama draw.”

“Okay. Hmm… What should I draw? I know. I will draw a circle.”

As she scribbled on the page, I drew a circle. I added two eyes, a triangle nose, and a mouth to the circle.

“Look, I drew a cat.”

“Kitty! Ear.” She reached over and scribbled blue where the cat’s ear should be.

“Thanks for giving my cat an ear.”

Taking the crayon box, she exchanged her blue for a different crayon. This crayon was orange, but when she pulled it out, she noticed something.

“Broken.” For a moment she looked about to cry.

“That’s okay,” I tried to reassure her. “You can still colour with it.”

She stared at the two pieces of crayon in her hand, then tried to put them back together. It, of course, didn’t work.

She turned to me confidently. “Dada fix it.”

I was tempted to laugh, but her little face was so serious and confident.

“Maybe Dada will fix it. You can ask him when he comes home.”

She nodded and repeated her words. “Dada fix it.”

Setting aside one of the pieces, she happily returned to her colouring with the other broken piece.

This was only one example of the many times I have heard those words uttered from her lips with complete confidence.

“Dada fix it.”

When she saw a ripped book, she was concerned, but then told herself, “Dada fix it.”

When she saw an upholstered chair that had long ago been shredded by cat claws so that it now was adorned by a blanket. She was sad, but then decided. “Dada fix it.”

The faith my little girl has in her daddy’s ability to fix things has shown up many times.

Sometimes my husband does indeed fix whatever it was that was broken. Other times he does not. Yet still she remains confident of his ability to fix anything.

What about me? Do I believe that my Heavenly Father can do anything?

Do I really believe what Mark 10:27 tells us?

“Looking at them, Jesus said, ‘With man it is impossible, but not with God, because all things are possible with God.'” (CSB)

Now just because God can do anything doesn’t mean that He will.

Yes, my husband could technically fix the broken crayon. He could melt the two pieces and reform them into a whole new crayon. Did he choose to do this? No. Instead, we taught our little girl to be content to work with what she has. Broken crayons still colour just fine. Indeed, a few months later, she often sought out that broken crayon as one of her favourites to colour with.

Philippians 4:6 says, “Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (CSB)

God can do anything, and He wants us to bring our requests to Him.

He will not always do what we ask or want, yet He still wants us to ask Him, even if the thing seems too small to bother or too impossible.

Nothing is too impossible for God.

Today, may I truly believe that God can do the impossible, and may I bring my requests to Him.

As I do so, Philippians 4:7 will become mine. (I’ve included verses 4-7 for fuller context.)

4Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5Let your graciousness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:4-7 CSB)

Heel Pricks

Posted on by S. J. Little

 

The nurse stepped into our room.

“How’s baby doing?”

I glanced up. “He’s starting to stir. Likely he’ll be hungry soon.“

She took a moment to study our newborn as he lay swaddled in the bassinet.

Next, she turned to the monitor screen showing his heart rate, respiratory rate, and oxygen saturation.

She checked his IV line. It was still running smoothly.

She turned to us then. “The doctor has ordered some blood work. I’ll have to prick his heel to get 25-30 drops of blood so they can check to see how he’s doing. Are you okay if I go ahead with that?”

My husband and I glanced at each other and nodded. “Yes, go ahead.”

The nurse put a little heat pack on our son’s heel and got to work preparing what was needed.

A minute or two later, she turned back to our newborn.

She took the heat pack off and examined his heel. He already had a few scabs from previous pricks, but she found a new spot.

He was awake now and starting to look for food.

When the nurse pricked his heel, his little face scrunched up and turned red. He began to cry.

The nurse squeezed his heel to get one drop of blood out of his foot and then another. She skillfully collected the sample into a little tube.

I pressed a soother into my newborn’s mouth, but to little avail.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “It’ll help them get you feeling better.”

But he didn’t understand.

He continued to cry – a heart-wrenching newborn cry.

The nurse continued her work.

Finally the nurse had collected enough blood to be able to send it for testing. 

Dodging cords from his monitors, we changed his little diaper, and I picked him up for nursing.

He calmed as soon as I began to nurse him.

We breathed a sigh of relief.

– – – –

Why would we allow someone to intentionally hurt our little guy who had no idea what was going on?

That wasn’t the only time we okayed something that hurt him either.

Even in the first 24 hours of his life outside the womb, my husband gave permission for nurses to do blood work.

Our little boy cried hard each time his heel was pricked. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew something hurt. 

Why would we, as loving parents, allow and even encourage someone to hurt our baby?

Because we knew it might help.

You see, when our little boy was born, he was having difficulty breathing. It was bad enough that they admitted him to the hospital NICU.

After a couple of days on a CPAP machine and oxygen, our son had improved some, but then began to show signs of infection, including in some of his bloodwork. When they put him on antibiotics, he quickly improved.

He had to remain in hospital until his antibiotics were completed because they were given by IV.

What a relief when we could take our baby home with us after a week in the NICU! He transitioned home so smoothly that you’d never know he had needed that extra care.

(A quick shout out to say thank you to the NICU team for their incredible care for the precious little ones in their unit. It was amazing to see the work they do.)

Why share all this? Because my husband pointed out a powerful allegory in the midst of it.

He, as a loving dad, allowed the nurses to prick our little boy and make him bleed. Why? Because he could see the big picture.

My son didn’t understand. All he knew was that something hurt. He couldn’t have even told me that it was his foot. He just knew that something hurt and he didn’t like it.

My newborn did the only thing he knew to do. He cried. 

Did I rebuke my son for crying? No. I almost felt like crying right alongside him. 

Instead, I sought to comfort him and, in a sense, to join him in his suffering.

In comparison to God, I am like my little newborn. 

I am small and helpless.

I do not understand the big picture.

I feel it if something hurts me – oh boy, do I feel it!

I typically have no idea that there might be a purpose behind the pain, nor of what that purpose might be.

God is good, and God is love. He is at work behind the scenes orchestrating everything for His glory and for the good of those who love Him. (Rom. 8:28)

When a heel prick comes in my life (indeed it is when, not if), how should I respond?

First, I find time to take my crying to God.

Just as I didn’t rebuke my newborn for crying, God welcomes me to tell Him how I’m feeling. He cares about me.

If I feel the need, I can even ask God, “Why?”

More likely than not, God will not tell me why on this side of heaven, but I can still ask. 

Then I move on to surrender the whole thing to Him, trusting that He is in control and knows what He is doing even if I don’t know why. 

I turn my eyes upon Jesus. I remind myself of who He is: all-mighty, all-knowing, good, loving, and interested in the details of my life.

While all that is good and deeply valuable, on a practical level, what should I do when my heel is pricked? When grief or unknowns make me stutter?

In the words of Elizabeth Elliott, I “do the next thing.”

I determine the next thing to do, whether that is make supper or pack a hospital bag, and I do it. Sometimes I have to be even more specific when finding the next thing to do: peel the onion… Put a phone charger in the hospital bag… Once that’s done, I can do the next thing.

“Wait for the Lord and keep His way…” (Psalm 37:34)

Next time I have my heel pricked, may I remember to take my emotions to God, to surrender and trust Him, to remind myself who God is, and to do the next thing.

No Hand

Posted on by S. J. Little

 

It was time for my kids to head towards bed. Pajamas were on, night-time snack had been eaten, and the Bible story had been read.

While my husband went ahead with our daughter, I directed our 1.5 year old son towards the stairs.

As we reached the foot of the staircase, he suddenly turned to me.

“No ‘and. No ‘and. No ‘and.”

He shook his hand at me to emphasize his point.

“Okay,” I took a step back. “You don’t have to hold my hand. That’s fine.”

He reached for the handrail, grasping the part that secures the railing to the wall. The railing itself was too high for him to use comfortably.

Using this support, he stepped onto the bottom step.

That was as far as he could go while holding that support.

He moved his hand, bracing it against the wall, and began taking the next step.

He paused. His other hand reached towards me. “Mama ‘and.”

“Okay.”

Grinning, I took his hand in mine and helped him climb the rest of the staircase. So much for “no hand.”

This wasn’t the first time he had done this. In fact, in the days leading up to my writing this account, he adamantly declared “no hand” in his one-year-old accent nearly every time we approached a flight of stairs together. Then, after taking the first step, he would reach out his little hand for me to hold as I helped him navigate the stairs.

You see, he has reached the age of wanting to be independent while not being very capable yet. He is delighted anytime I can teach him to do something on his own, such as doing the coat flip trick to put on his coat.

His “no hand, no hand,” got me thinking.

Have I ever said “No hand,” to God?

Undoubtedly I have many times.

Coming from my 1.5 year old, it is a sweet, though sometimes difficult, gesture of growing up. He should be gaining independence. It is good and right for him to want to gain more independence.

For me, in my walk with God, seeking independence by rejecting God’s help is a stubborn prideful thing. It is not good.

God wants me to depend on Him. The more I grow and mature in my relationship with Him, the more I will depend on Him.

Yet He gives me the choice.

We are told:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
and do not rely on your own understanding;
in all your ways know Him,
and He will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6 CSB

I am to lean into God and let Him help me. I am not to live this life in my own understanding, or my own strength.

Today, may I reach out my hand towards my Heavenly Father and say, “Abba’s hand” as I lean into the help He offers.

Holding Me Up

Posted on by S. J. Little

 

My 3 year old daughter ducked into the large cardboard box sitting in our living room.

We had transformed it into a simple house by setting it on its side to use the top flaps as doors. Additionally, on one side, we cut a small window, leaving a flap that could open and close. On the other side, we added a small side door.

She pushed the window flap open and peeked out.

My 1 year old son saw her peeking and laughed. He pointed at her as he toddled over.

Crouching, he entered the box.

My daughter vacated through the side door.

Circling to the other side, she peeked in the window making them both laugh.

My son gripped the bottom of the window and began leaning against the side of the box as their game of peek-a-boo continued.

Sitting nearby, I noticed his leaning was beginning to tip the whole box.

Reaching out, I held tight to the opposite side of the box as he leaned even further.

I felt the pull of the box. It would have tipped had I not been stabilizing it.

My son, however, was blissfully unaware of my rescue as he laughed and peeked out the window at my daughter again.

I glanced over at my husband who sat nearby and had observed the whole thing, saying, “He has no idea someone is holding him up.”

What about me? Do I know that Someone is holding me up? Do I acknowledge and thank Him? Or do I assume it is my own efforts holding me up?

Throughout the Bible, we see God taking care of His people again and again. Sometimes it is blatantly obvious to the people involved, sometimes it is not.

Perhaps Psalm 23 is one of the most beautiful passages depicting this.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness

for His name’s sake.

 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,

for You are with me;

Your rod and Your staff,

they comfort me.

 

You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies;

You anoint my head with oil;

my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me

all the days of my life,

and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord

forever.

(Psalm 23 ESV)

God is taking care of me in the same way a shepherd cares for their sheep.

I need not worry. God is holding me up.

Does that mean my life will be trouble-free and easy? Not at all.

The following evening, as my son was again peeking out the window. He leaned against the side in the same fashion as the story above.

This time, however, I was not holding onto the box.

Over it tipped, with my 1 year old inside.

He cried as I helped him crawl out, though I suspect his tears were more from the scare than from pain.

Later, I observed him peeking out the window a third time. This time he felt the box begin to shift and pulled back from leaning on it.

He glanced at me for reassurance.

I applauded his discernment and quick learning. He has not tipped it over again.

Often in life, when hardships happen, they are not a specific result of my actions. Sometimes, however, they are a direct consequence of something I have done (like for my 1 year old in the story).

Sometimes God protects me from the consequences of my actions. Sometimes He does not.

Regardless of the cause, when I face trials, God wants to be at work in me. He wants me to be learning and growing.

If, like my 1 year old, the trial is a result of my own foolishness, God wants me to learn better wisdom and discernment.

If the trouble is not because of something I have done, God still wants to be working in me.

That is why James says:

“Consider it a great joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you experience various trials, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing.” (James 1:2-4 CSB)

Am I facing great difficulties today? May I press into Jesus knowing that as I do so, He will be working to transform me from the inside out. He is holding me up.

Am I in a peaceful and seemingly easy season of life right now? May I be intentional to pursue Jesus, growing in knowledge of the truth and in healthy Biblical habits, not forgetting to thank and praise Him. He is holding me up.

Have you memorized Psalm 23? If not, I urge you to do so. Here’s a great song, by Zac Fitzsimmons, to help you memorize the chapter. You can watch it below or find it on Spotify here.

 

Rest so Peaceful

Posted on by S. J. Little

 

I cradled my recently turned 1-year-old in my arms. He snuggled in, sleepy and content to be held.

Looking into his big blue eyes, I couldn’t help but marvel at his willingness to rest in trust.

You see, this little boy has recently learned to walk. Now he walks everywhere. He loves his new freedom.

He walks and walks, stops to play, then walks some more. I jokingly say, “He has no time to sit still. He’s got to move!”

He is also beginning to understand words and communicates by pointing, nodding, and saying, “more, more.”

I’ve started referring to him as a toddler rather than a baby.

Yet in that moment, as I sang him a lullaby, he seemed so much like a baby. His simple peaceful trust that I would take care of him was worth marveling at.

As I took a step toward his crib, his eyes shifted to the ceiling. He watched calmly as I carried him past the light and a door frame.

He let me lower him onto his back in the crib.

There was no fear, no fight for control in his gaze as he studied my face.

As I headed back downstairs, I found myself imagining my response if someone were to carry me. 

My stomach clenched at the thought of feeling so utterly out-of-control when being carried on my back, unable to look anywhere but at the ceiling. The anxiety that would grab at me if I couldn’t control where I was going or even adjust for better balance would be near overwhelming.

My little one doesn’t always rest so peacefully. He is currently in a phase of clinging to mommy. Only a handful of people have gained enough trust for him to rest in their arms.

Even in his babylike trust, who is holding him is the key.

What about me? Do I have that babylike trust in God my Father? Or have I become so accustomed to independence and having a sense of control that I refuse to rest in His arms?

In this area, I need to go backwards in development, back to that childlike dependence on my Heavenly Father.

This is not easy.

When I feel out of control, I want to fight for all I am worth to get that control back.

Yet I am never truly in control in the first place regardless of how I might feel. I cannot control the weather, how other people think and act, or many aspects of my health.

God is in control.

Not only is He in control now, but He sees the big picture. He knows what the future holds and He is interested in more than just my temporary pleasure for today.

Along with that, knowing God is loving and good is reason enough for me to seek to rest in His arms.

At all times, but especially when I feel out of control and helpless, may I lean into His loving arms and rest peacefully there.

Isaiah reminds me that God carries His children. Having just discussed how people worshipping false gods in that day literally carried their gods, Isaiah stated:

 

“Listen to Me, … you whom I have upheld since your birth,

    and have carried since you were born.

Even to your old age and gray hairs

    I am He, I am He who will sustain you.

I have made you and I will carry you;

    I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”

Isaiah 46:3-4 NIV

 

Experiencing peaceful rest in God’s arms is not necessarily a lack of action, but a heart condition.

On the outside, sometimes resting in His arms will be sitting and waiting. Sometimes it will be active and hard work.

Regardless, may I learn to rest my heart in His arms, trusting that He is good, loving, and in control.

 

As I close, I encourage you to take a moment to listen to this well-loved hymn: Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.