A Mother and Child Reunion

I was sitting in the campus quad eating my lunch the other day and couldn't help but notice an interaction between a toddler and his mother. They were sitting on a bench and the young mother was holding her son, a young boy no more than 3 or 4. They looked very peaceful and the boy was snuggled in. Suddenly, he started to squirm to get loose. Class had just let out and the quad was beginning to fill. His mother was obviously reluctant to put him down, and attempted to hold him closer, if only for the moment. It was then that the boy extended his tiny palm squarely in her face and pushed off. It didn't look like he hurt his mother physically, but it definitely took her by surprise and upset her. She let his feet hit the floor and he began to back away. In his hurry to back away and his distraction from all the students rushing to their next class, the boy tripped over his own feet and fell backward landing hard on his side and scraping his elbow. He began to bawl, got back to his feet and ran back to the arms of his mother. Without a word she scooped him up, brushed the dirt off his scrape and kissed his tears away. All the while, she snuggled him close to her chest. The whole play lasted no more than 3-5 minutes.

I began to think about how many times in my life I had been that little boy. How many times had I pushed away from my parents? How many times had I pushed away from my friends? How many times had I pushed away from my wife? How many times had I pushed away from God? And why?

At that moment, all that little boy wanted was to be free and to go it on his own. His mother knew what was best for him, yet he wiggled and protested and forced his way out of her loving arms. His reaction to such freedom was immediately gleeful, but quickly turned into tears when he tripped over his own uncoordinated little feet. In his fright and pain, the first thing he did was run back to his mother.

His mother let him go. She let him do what he wanted. She watched worriedly as he fell and did not mock his choice or laugh at his pain as he hit the floor. When he returned, she pulled him close, kissed away his tears, and welcomed him back with loving arms.

Life has not always been as kind to me and I am sure it has not always been as kind to you. What is it in us that trusts so blindly in our own judgement and fights so hard for our own desires, despite the wisdom and cautions of those who love us? Sometimes, there is even a proportional relationship between love and independence. The more someone loves us, the less we listen to their opinions. The more they love us, the more we wiggle and the harder we push. I can acknowledge there have been times with my parents and my wife, especially, that I have done exactly the opposite of their wishes for me. How many more times have I pushed away from God and his will for me? Like Jonah running from God's call, sometimes I feel like I have lived more of my life inside the belly of the whale than outside of it. Thankfully, I have always been coughed ashore in the same place. When I have fallen, and tripped on my own feet, God has always held me close.

When talking to a friend recently about a tough decision she was about to make, I tried to comfort her with Jeremiah 29:11...

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

So I guess the questions that arise from this are: will those words really give the comfort I would hope for her and will she act according to her conscience? When I have a decision to make in the future, will I remember them myself? Finally, do they hold any relevance for you and do you see any of this discussion reflected in yourself?