The Parallels

His Aunt Shell is here with his cousin to play, and he can't come out of his room until he picks up his Legos that he dumped all over the floor. There are other toys strewn about, but I'm not focusing on those. Just the Legos, Aidan.

An angry outburst complete with the attitude of a teenager wanting Mom to just shut up quickly melted into heartbroken sadness that he was unable to enjoy the dance party his sister and cousin were having in the living room. "I don't want to be in time out!" he wailed.

"You aren't in time out, Bear," I told him lovingly. "You can come out just as soon as you pick up your Legos."

"But I don't want to be by myself!"

My mama's heart squeezed to the max, I sat down beside him on his bed and wrapped him in my arms. "I love you so, so much, Bear. You aren't by yourself. I'm right here." The crying lessened a little.

"I just want you to do it, Mama."

"No, Bear. You have to learn to clean up the messes you make. Mommy can't do it for you."

This was the scene yesterday afternoon in my house, and as I sat next to Bear on his bed I was struck by the spiritual parallels of this moment that I was having with my three-year-old. It pretty much mirrors me and the Lord sometimes. Sin that isolates and robs the joy set before me. An immature expectation of God to take a magic wand and erase the consequences of my choices and actions, or to make it not hard to do what He wants me to do, or for Him to just do the work Himself without requiring any (or much) effort on my part. Nevermind the principles of sowing and reaping that are established in His Kingdom. 

Checkmate. You're right, Lord. Help me to get it right so that I can teach this little boy to run and follow hard after You.