Are you smarter than a two-year-old? I’m not.
Once again Eli performed at a higher level of faith than I’ve been able to exhibit in all my 56 years. Here’s how it happened.
Friday was date night for the kids and grandbaby fun time for me. Eli and I did some shopping where of course he selected a new truck for his special treat. I was unloading groceries and he was crawling around my feet imagining a super productive construction site with his dump truck and new cement truck. I must add its cool swiveling bucket on the back insured it as the favorite of the day.
He crossed his trucks between the kitchen tile and family room hardwood only to bump the floor strip; it moved. Oh, how exciting to a little boy who promptly lifted it from its supposedly glued position. I noticed and asked him not to play with it. He let it snap into place and continued on.
A few minutes later I was washing fruit and I heard, “Granpap fix it.” My ears perked up because I know something broke. I feared it was his new truck with the swiveling bucket.
He walked up to me with his fearless face and said, “Granpap fix it.”
His reply, “Granpap fix it.”
That’s it. That’s the lesson that overwhelmed me. That’s why I need to learn from a two-year-old. Only a child has that kind of faith.
If you don’t see it yet, let me share what I would’ve done. I often times follow my ancestor Eve. I’m told not to touch it. I touch it and I break it.
I’m terrified that I will be scolded and disciplined therefore I start coming up with excuses on why I touched the forbidden thing. I actually blame the thing. “It should’ve been glued better. I was only trying to fix it.”
Then I try to fix it myself which because I’m worthless with tools becomes a bigger disaster. So I hide. I put the splintered strip of wood back in place as best I can and I hide on the sofa in a fake sleep.
When Granpap comes home and forces me to wake, I recite my explanation and he doesn’t buy a word of it. So guilt and shame come in and I cry apologizes for being such a waste of a person. “I break everything. I always make it worse. I don’t deserve to live in the same house as you. I’ll pay for the supplies if you will fix it.”
Then I use every tool in my womanly arsenal to try to appease his perceived anger and make him happy so maybe he will like me again.
All my efforts are wasted. I’ll daily remind myself of my stupidity every time I step across that threshold. Guilt will consume my joy.
Oh little Eli, thank you for constantly displaying a childlike faith.
“Granpap fix it.”
Yes, Eli. Granpap did fix it. He didn’t scold you. He loved you before you did it. He loved you while you did it. He loved you after you did it. His love never changes.
“Granpap fix it.”
I hope I remember this the next time I blow it. The next time I sin. All He wants me to do is run to him with a fearless face and put my sin before Him and say, “Abba Daddy, fix it.”
“Abba Daddy, fix it.”
He will. He’s the only one who can. All the time He’s repairing the damage, He’s reminding me of His love. I can sit next to Him and watch how He restores the broken to a perfection I could never have imagined.
And now every time I walk that threshold, I’m reminded of His love for me, His beloved child.
“Abba Daddy fixed me.”
And if that weren’t enough, there’s always a special treat for faith, Granpap gave Eli a new kite, and they played together all evening.
I hope to never hide from another special treat. How about you? Learn something from a two-year-old?