Wednesday, February 24, 2016
what's all the tomorrows?
If your kids could pick one superhero power to have, what do you think it would be?
Flying? Being invisible? Shooting webs from their hands so they can climb tall buildings?
I can tell you with 100% certainty that Duke would pick none of those. My sweet Duke would pick the ability to know the future.
"What's tomorrow is?"
This is one of his daily questions. It happens at lunch time, it happens at dinner time, it happens in the car. He wants to k-n-o-w.
Typically, I give him a bit of information to satisfy his structured personality, but I try to leave the majority of the plans up in the air.
"We're going to the store and then I'm not sure what else we'll do."
Then he usually asks, "And then what's the next day?"
Is the kid mine or what? Eesh.
At that point, I go into my spiel about how we don't need to focus on any other day besides today.
But a few weeks ago, it reached a new level.
He asked, "What's all the tomorrows?"
While this made me laugh, I could so relate to his yearning.
I've known for awhile now that one major thing I will be partnering with God in is teaching Duke to hold the future loosely and to understand the value of being okay with the unknown by trusting and resting in God.
And I guess I could probably use a continual lesson on that myself.
Just a couple of weeks ago I fell apart because too many planned and "certain" things ended up changing or messing up. A relaxing bath didn't happen because, well, children live in my house. A dumb DVR didn't record The Grammy's because technology, though we wish to believe it is, is not perfect. And many more things like that. Separately they seem small, childish, and silly (and they are, really), but combined in one evening they made me feel I was being shoved in a constant detour. It sent me into a selfish spiral and by the time I got to the end of the night, I had completely ruined any hope of an enjoyable couple of hours with Colt because I was lost in the depths of pride and self-pity.
All of life (or my life, at least) so far seems to be a lesson in releasing control, plans, and guarantees. Sure, it's okay to be a person who loves structure. But the true test comes when those things are challenged. Does my world crumble? Do I crumble? There is something wrong when our peace, contentment, and joy are dependent upon things going as planned.
I believe there is something that God is calling each of us to let go of or loosen our grip of. It may not be plans or the future. Maybe it's money. Maybe it's a job. Maybe it's a position or status. Maybe it's an ability. What is that thing that we're desperately holding onto because it seems to give us happiness and purpose? What is that thing that when taken or altered in any way causes us to become shaken and unstable? I'm not suggesting that we give everything up that we love. I'm just suggesting that we search ourselves to find where we put our security. Where we find our security, we also find our identity.
Duke will never have the power to know the future. But I pray that as he grows, he finds his security in the One who knows and holds his future.