No Shoes to Wear

No, this isn't a photo of Lucy's closet

I had 2 situations today that made me think how incredibly frustrating it must be to be a heavenly parent. 

1st, every Friday Mikey has a lot of homeschool work to do and he gets really upset about it and makes it take twice as long and be twice as hard.  This morning I called him in on my bed and said,  "Do you remember when you loved homework?"  I explained that it was because he worked fast and didn't get all caught up in all the distractions of why it was assigned or whether it was just busy work.  I told him to go downstairs, have breakfast and finish up the week's math and language.  At which point, I made an hour long phone call.  When I came down, he was reading a book.  He hadn't started his homework and when he saw me the emotion on his face was obvious.  Now we had to deal with not only frustration at the amount of homework still to do, but also the guilt of not doing what he was asked.

Hmm.  That sounds like me and God.  I've certainly been told a zillion times what to do and how to do it to make my life as good as it can be.  And as painless as it can be--what things to avoid etc.  Do I choose any better than Mikey does at 10?  Sometimes, but sometimes I'm just as oblivious to the consequences I'm setting in motion as he is.

2nd, Lucy's closet was such a mess today she couldn't find a pair of shoes.  (There's a lot more to it than that, but that'll suffice for this anecdote.)  I lost it.  Absolutely lost it.  Finally in the post-blowup discussion we got to the point that where I told her that I had been ignoring how bad her room was for weeks and trying to keep my cool, but I couldn't stand it one more second.  I asked her why she only feels like doing what she's supposed to when I lose it and otherwise she's great living in a mess.

Hmm again.  That might sound like me too.  Not that God loses it on me, but sometimes I don't do what I'm supposed to until I can see how far I've let things go.  What I'm supposed to do hasn't changed.  I have just put in all in the closet where neither I nor anyone else can see it.  Maybe that's why we're supposed to pray in the closet.  It's God's way of nagging us to clean it out.

It's no wonder our understanding doesn't compare to God's.  He has to figure out how to deal with all of us and our quirks and problems and weaknesses.  Whew, are we really supposed to want to become like him?