Pumpkin Pickin'

Tomato Soup and God's Love

The Lost Lamb by Del Parson

The last few months have been so seemingly hard for me. Though I have sought to be optimistic and put up a front of all being well, I have been struggling so deeply inside. Though maybe even a year ago I would have told you that I felt God's love for me, I have come to realize that it was easier to believe God loved me when things were going well. However, if we gage God's love for us by this measure, when trials come-- in those moments when we desperately need to feel God's love most abundantly, we will feel abandoned and left wondering why God doesn't love us anymore. Of course this was taught to me differently-- the worth of the soul is great in the sight of God, God loves all his children regardless of what they do, but I didn't really KNOW this.

September was the longest agonizing month for me. I cried nearly everyday. I wanted to know that regardless of the difficulties we were facing God still loved me. And though I knew this in my head, I couldn't feel it in my heart. So I have specifically been practicing opening my heart to receive the gift of God's love for me each day. Some days are admittedly easier than others. And through all of this, I am learning that I have a long way to go before I think like God.

So last night I had just finished feeding the kids dinner. Tomato soup with some fresh garlic bread. Preston had left the table, and I had cleared my dishes and was nearby the table cleaning up, thinking how nice it was going to be to see Burke in an hour and then put the kids in bed . . . when the sound of shattering glass brought me back to the part where I still had an HOUR before Burke would be home. (Does the last hour of the "day" drag by so slowly for anyone else?!) Anyway there was sweet Rebekah, still sitting in her booster seat dripping with tomato soup and uttering, "uh oh . . . meya (mess)" while looking down at the shattered glass and splattered soup. Now to be fair, I must say that normally, I would have felt irritated when something like this happens. Something about “as if I didn’t already have enough to do” would wander through my head and I might have even snapped at my little one for being clumsy or careless. But instead I watched for a moment as she struggled to free herself from her chair. When she realized she was really stuck she reached up on the table for a napkin and began to clean up the mess as best she could. But she couldn't even begin to clean the mess adequately--in truth she was just smearing it around and making it worse. I sprang into action. I pulled her away from the dripping table and began to wipe her with warm water and clean rags. I offered soothing words and reassurance when I saw her bottom lip tremble. "You're not it trouble Sis," I whispered, "sometimes accidents happen." By now Preston was on the scene and ready to "help" me clean up the mess. But I realized that even if I wanted these children's help to clean up the mess, they would be in a lot of danger if I allowed them to get down and "help" me clean. They simply do not have the skills or the understanding of the dangers of slimy floors and broken glass to clean the mess without creating more mess or hurting themselves—someday they will, but not today. As I worked quickly and thoroughly while my children sat in their booster seats and watched, I felt a deep sense of joy and satisfaction in caring for and protecting my precious children. I felt more love and concern for them in those moments when I wiped walls, carefully gathered bits of broken glass, and mopped and dried the slick floors before I could take them from their safe perches and bathe them and ready them for bed.

And then I realized that I have been viewing God all wrong. I have made some huge mistakes that have resulted in some of the biggest messes I have ever made. And I don’t yet have the understanding and skills to clean up the mess myself. But I have not allowed God and Christ to step in and clean up my mess because I have thought they would feel irritated and frustrated with me. But the truth is, God doesn’t feel put out when I need help . . . in fact he likes to help me, to care for me, to protect me and help me get back on track. So I will continue to put my trust in Him, relying on His mercy and the strengthening power of the atonement of Christ to overcome all things and to know that God is at helm and all that He does is right.