“Mommy will go to the hospital and be there for several nights, then come home with our new baby,” I told my two-year-old daughter enthusiastically. She had been eagerly anticipating the arrival of “her baby,” but it was the first time I had explained to her that I had to go away for a while. My goal was to break the hard parts of the experience into small sections for her to digest.
“Will I go with you?” she asked. I explained that she would be at Grandma’s for a while, and then Daddy would pick her up and bring her home.
A look of horror swept over her face. “But what will I eat?” she asked plaintively.
I had to laugh. Cooking was not a part of my husband’s skill set. But I have to admit, there was a side of me that thought: I’m her mother. Doesn’t she even trust me to take care of her? Have I ever left her to figure out how to get her needs met? Doesn’t she realize that isn’t her job?
She looked so forlorn, I had to stop and take her seriously. I explained that Daddy could fix her cereal and toast, and that he could make hot dogs, too. She still looked rather doubtful.
I was reminded of that incident recently when my mind was in a turmoil over a rough situation. I had become so obsessed with solving the problem (which actually had no solution I could control) that the foundation of my world was shaking. At one point of desperation, I sensed God asking me: “Who told you that you’re responsible for fixing this? I certainly didn’t.”
The memory of my daughter’s distressed face flashed through my mind. “I’m doing the same thing to God,” I thought. Then I remembered the rest of the story.
When the time came for me to go to the hospital, we dropped our daughter off at my parents’ house. We allowed Grandma to break the news to her that she would be able to spend the night, as we had planned to do all along. Our daughter was overjoyed. “Grandma knows what I like to eat,” she reassured me as we left. My solution to her problem was much more satisfying than she could have imagined.
Now when I start feeling like it’s my responsibility to solve problems that are out of my control, I try to remind myself, “God has it figured out. Maybe I’ll end up at His version of Grandma’s house!” – Written By Viki Rife, from /womenofgraceusa.wordpress.com