the lesson

When my children first learned to talk, our conversations were limited to them asking, "what is it?" and my answer. Over and over and over, they'd point to some object and say the inevitable. They never tired of the questions. I sometimes despaired of the never-ending need for answers.

As they grew, the question changed to "why?" No longer content with just one or two words, their thirst for knowledge expanded from simple to complex and the answers required more time and effort to formulate. I don't think they always heard the answer, they just asked the same question again. And again. And again. A one-word song.

When they were older, they went through a time when they wanted me to do more than name things. "Teach me," they'd say, and hold up a shoe with lace hanging loose. "Teach me," they'd say, and hold up a bottle of bubble soap and blower. "Teach me," they'd say, and hold out a book of arithmetic.

As they grew, one of the things they learned was that if it was broken, you went to Mom for help. The days were filled with "fix it, please" requests. A little glue and patience could fix an ashtray broken by a football thrown carelessly across the living room. A little love and hot chocolate could soothe a bruised knee. A lot of love, a hug and a kiss could even mend a broken heart.

All too soon they graduated to "I can do it myself." It's only natural, inevitable, and yes, right, that they relished newly found independence, developed into free thinkers, and became their own person. But there were times when I'd watch as they rode away on their bike or skated solo down the sidewalk, and actually missed the struggles. More, I missed them asking my help.

There are so many things in life today that I do not understand. So often that I wish I had someone tall and strong that I could run to with my problems and say "fix it" or hold up an unknown and say "what is this and why is it in my life?" or hand my bruised heart and say "kiss it" and know that all would be well.

Oh, Lord, this is a hard lesson. I know you can fix anything. So tell me that all my effort is not in vain. Teach me to dream of better times. Help me to trust. Please.