OK-the vacuum isn’t evil, but you can’t convince my 12-month
daughter of that. She begins to tense and tear up when she sees a vacuum—yes,
even if the machine is off and unplugged. When a vacuum gets too close to her,
she stops everything, looks around and then bolts---straight to me. She wraps
her little arms around my leg, stands on my foot, and digs her nails into my
calf. No other person or toy or food or item can distract or pry her from my
side. In the midst of fear, she clings to what she has deemed to be her
protection. She clings until threat of the devilish Dyson passes her by.
Lately, I’ve decided to push her beyond her comfort zone. I’ll
slowly take steps toward the vacuum (with her hanging on my leg). I’ll touch it
and hit it. I’ll lean on it. It’s always funny—as long as she’s holding on to
me—she always and eventually reaches out and pets the mean machine. She never
let’s go of me nor I her. She’s brave, but not arrogant. Her confidence comes
from me.
This morning as I sat on the metro, I started thinking—When
life challenges, scares, or overwhelms, me, my first thought is to rely on my
own ability to resolve the issue. However, Jesus instructs us to come to God as
a child (Matthew 18:3). What would it look like if in the midst of every storm,
trial, or celebration for my first response to be 1) drop everything, 2) look
for my Father and 3) cling to His side no matter what? What would it look like
for me to not muster fake or mortal confidence, but allowed God to be my
confidence (1 John 5:14). What would it look like for me to face and overcome
challenges not relying on my own strength or talents or gifts, but on Him? What
would it look like for me to wrap my arms around the protecting calf of my
loving Father and just trust that He has me?
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