Late for Pancakes

Maybe you think you’ve seen someone completely and totally devastated.  I’m here to tell you, you haven’t.  Unless of course, you were in my house on Saturday morning to see the kid who woke up considerably later than everyone else in the house, wandered into the kitchen to find no one but me, glanced at the dining room table to see empty plates, and immediately reached the conclusion that Saturday pancake breakfast had already happened…and there was nothing left for him. 

“BUT I WANTED PANCAKES!!!!! MOMMMY, I MISSED THE PANCAKES!  AND I’M SO, SO HUNGRY!  MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMY.”  There were even the beginnings of some tears. 

He failed to notice that the plates were still empty of syrup, that I was still measuring flour into the bowl, that the griddle wasn’t even plugged into the wall yet.   

“Eli, do you trust your mom?  Do you really think I would make pancakes and not save any for you?  Don’t you know that I make the pancakes especially for you and your siblings?  I enjoy seeing you enjoy them, and I wouldn’t miss out on that just because you slept in.”

He paused, and I asked him again.  “Do you trust your mom?”

He shook his head no.  Of course, I already knew that; his reaction told me everything I needed to know.

“Why don’t you trust me?  Have I ever not been good to you?”

Of course he thinks I have.  I’ve said no to ice cream on days when he had too many sweets.  I’ve taken toys away when they caused fights between him and his siblings.  In my love for him, I’ve had to make decisions that he didn’t like, and he can’t always see my heart, especially if he’s too busy throwing a tantrum instead of listening to my voice. 

I can’t think of anything that’s taught me as much about God’s heart (and mine) as my kids.  In many ways, I am in the same place with God as Eli is with me.  To my heart, He didn’t come through.  He didn’t provide financially so I could stay home.  He barely got us to my first paycheck.  (Actually we are not there yet and it is coming down to pennies.)  He didn’t change my husband’s heart towards me…at least not yet.  He didn’t provide an in-home caregiver so I could keep my kids out of daycare.  And this dream I have of weaving words into a career?  I feel like I woke up too late.  Everyone, and I mean everyone, has already been there, done that.  I waited too long, and He’s already handed out the best He has to offer. 

My heart does not yet trust God.  My heart does not yet believe.  My heart cannot comprehend that God loves me…just for me…with a ravishing love that is only faintly mirrored by my love for my own children.  I cannot fathom that God takes joy in my joy, that He delights in seeing me savor His gifts.  My heart believes God dishes out difficulty for sport…that any joy He provides is purely accidental.  My mind has made a choice to serve God, but only He can persuade my stubborn heart.  As I gaze into His word and the promises He’s made, I’m dependent on His healing…His transformation.  I think…some days…that it is already happening.  Even in the “not yet.”  Create in me a clean heart, oh God.  Renew a loyal spirit within me.  Psalm 51:10