So for two mornings this week my kids have gotten out of their beds with giggles in their voices, put on their clothes with much-appreciated little instruction, and beat me to the car. This is quite an accomplishment as I have been known to leave them at home for lack of all of the above.
This morning was extremely flawless. Before I realized it we had dropped Maddie off at the daycare, and were pulling up into the school parking lot. The empty school parking lot. Because we were there before the doors were unlocked.
With this extra time to kill, the boys and I headed for Sonic for 2 corndogs (a breakfast food?) and a large diet Coke with cherry. On the way we started talking about why we were afforded this priviledge on a random Thursday morning.
"Well, guys, when you do things that you are supposed to, then mornings go easier. Everyone is in a better mood, there are no tears, we get where we are supposed to be in time. And when all of those things come together, then we have time for better-than-normal treats. We get something special."
As I was I was spouting these words of wisdom, I started to think about how God must regard His children in these same ways. We know what we are to do. We are supposed to do it with kind hearts and words. But often we get in the ways of ourselves, making our paths harder and less enjoyable. And for what reason? Not because we feel better in the end. And not because the outcomes are better.
I don't understand why my kids make things harder on themselves. I don't know why they argue and hurt each other over things they really don't care about. I don't understand why I have to tell them the same things over and over again, just to be frustrated that they aren't listening or obeying. I'll never get why they would rebel intentionally to not receive a reward that is so freely given. I don't know why I haven't thought about seeing these things in me doesn't hurt and confuse my Father like it does me as a mother.