I thought God made a mistake. I was mistaken. See, I thought he was supposed to be looking after our family, making everything wonderful and blessed and fullfilled and joyful and well, I started thinking it was supposed to be the American Dream. I even forgot I wasn't American for a minute! Then I realized that that wasn't his job. Well, not completely. I forgot I was in a process of growth that began at birth and will end at sanctification, in heaven. I'm likely only half way through that process, though I may be 90% done, who knows, oh, yeah, other than God... I digress.
Then it happened.
I realized the truth. He loves me. He wants me to grow in faith. I have to go through trials to do that. If I don't go through stuff, I won't grow. I've begun to imagine Him watching me. Smiling as I fall off my bike, gently breaking the fall even. He smiles as I mispronounce my words. Laughs at the things I know to be true but are based on something I saw on a cartoon. Laughs again as I put my shirt on backward for the fourth time this week.
He's not laughing at me though.
He smiles because last year I only rode a tricycle. Two years ago I couldn't talk at all. Laughs because even though I don't remember my facts correctly, at least I'm remembering things and getting a chance to learn it for real. Last week, I put my shirt on backward 7 days in a row. I think I'm failing. He sees me grow. I don't see where I'm going, that there are motorcycles, speeches, books, tuxedo's all in the future. He does. And He smiles. And He lets me try again.