Olivia is terrified of the vacuum cleaner. She quivers when I bring it out of the closet. Her eyes enlarge, filled with terror, and she makes a pant-like sound that I only hear her make in response to the vacuum and (occasionally) strangers. (I am determined that her fear of the vacuum is not related to "stranger danger" - I'm choosing to feel confident in my housekeeping abilities and believe that her fear does not stem from unfamiliarity with the vacuum cleaner - ha.)
She's also learning how to walk. It's been fascinating to watch this infant gradually develop the muscle and motor skills that will enable her to run across a yard one day. Eleven months ago, she couldn't even hold up her own head, much less walk.
Our tiny house makes a circle, and she loves walking the same circular route through it multiple times a day, holding my hands. As Liv and I made our first round for the day through the house this morning, she found herself face to face with the looming black object that haunts her. I had accidentally left the vacuum cleaner in the hallway after completing the routine floor cleaning that is necessary when you live with a little person who spends most of her time on rugs.
As her parent, I had several choices for how to handle this moment. The first two that came to my mind were:
A) Move the vacuum cleaner so that she would not have to face it
B) Comfort her in her distress, but continue moving forward so that we would pass by it
I went with option B, seizing an opportunity to demonstrate that the vacuum could be passed. She halted when she saw it and looked up at me with those ginormous, uncertain eyes. I calmly told her that we could do this, and I guided us forward gently, taking the lead but moving at a slow pace to accommodate her feelings. Lo and behold, we did it (again and again and again later in the day)!
I instantly thought about the spiritual parallel, putting myself in Olivia's shoes (pun intended) and thinking about the "vacuums" in my own life. How many times have I found myself face to face with a challenge that seems impossible to pass and wanting God to just remove it altogether?
Here's the better question: how many times has God been with me as I faced vacuums, holding onto my hand, guiding me, gently reminding me of His presence, and getting me past them? Every. single. time.
When I've been faced with vacuums, often God has acted in option B fashion, not removing them. Just like I knew that it would help Olivia if I allowed her to walk past the vacuum, God knew in these situations that growth would result if He allowed me to face them.
I wish that I always responded to vacuums the way Olivia did, looking up at my parent, clinging to His hand, and trusting that He loves me and has purpose in each moment. Unfortunately, I sometimes respond in the opposite way. Vacuums have caused me to run away from my parent, seek comfort in empty places, and try to find any other route possible to avoid them. These attempts to escape vacuums were sidetracks that wasted time, got me nowhere, and resulted in heartache and separation from Him.
Vacuums are unavoidable. Scripture tells us that in this world we will have trouble (John 16:33). Thankfully, the next sentences tell us that we can take heart because He has overcome the world. Our heavenly Father is a resource too unfathomable for words, and He is holding our hands no matter what obstacles we face. Let's hold on tight and continue looking up at His face.
She's also learning how to walk. It's been fascinating to watch this infant gradually develop the muscle and motor skills that will enable her to run across a yard one day. Eleven months ago, she couldn't even hold up her own head, much less walk.
Our tiny house makes a circle, and she loves walking the same circular route through it multiple times a day, holding my hands. As Liv and I made our first round for the day through the house this morning, she found herself face to face with the looming black object that haunts her. I had accidentally left the vacuum cleaner in the hallway after completing the routine floor cleaning that is necessary when you live with a little person who spends most of her time on rugs.
As her parent, I had several choices for how to handle this moment. The first two that came to my mind were:
A) Move the vacuum cleaner so that she would not have to face it
B) Comfort her in her distress, but continue moving forward so that we would pass by it
I went with option B, seizing an opportunity to demonstrate that the vacuum could be passed. She halted when she saw it and looked up at me with those ginormous, uncertain eyes. I calmly told her that we could do this, and I guided us forward gently, taking the lead but moving at a slow pace to accommodate her feelings. Lo and behold, we did it (again and again and again later in the day)!
I instantly thought about the spiritual parallel, putting myself in Olivia's shoes (pun intended) and thinking about the "vacuums" in my own life. How many times have I found myself face to face with a challenge that seems impossible to pass and wanting God to just remove it altogether?
Here's the better question: how many times has God been with me as I faced vacuums, holding onto my hand, guiding me, gently reminding me of His presence, and getting me past them? Every. single. time.
When I've been faced with vacuums, often God has acted in option B fashion, not removing them. Just like I knew that it would help Olivia if I allowed her to walk past the vacuum, God knew in these situations that growth would result if He allowed me to face them.
I wish that I always responded to vacuums the way Olivia did, looking up at my parent, clinging to His hand, and trusting that He loves me and has purpose in each moment. Unfortunately, I sometimes respond in the opposite way. Vacuums have caused me to run away from my parent, seek comfort in empty places, and try to find any other route possible to avoid them. These attempts to escape vacuums were sidetracks that wasted time, got me nowhere, and resulted in heartache and separation from Him.
Vacuums are unavoidable. Scripture tells us that in this world we will have trouble (John 16:33). Thankfully, the next sentences tell us that we can take heart because He has overcome the world. Our heavenly Father is a resource too unfathomable for words, and He is holding our hands no matter what obstacles we face. Let's hold on tight and continue looking up at His face.
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