If there ever was an argument for original sin, it’s the lifestyle of a toddler. My theory is that a one year old becomes extra cute just when its time to begin disciplining her for wanting to dominate the world and all the people in it. My granddaughter Skylar fits that description perfectly with a sky-high cuteness factor but a stubborn determination to match. She’s totally captivating just as every one year old is, and can’t understand why she isn’t the center of the universe.

Louisa, Birgitta and I are not helping to increase her humility factor the way we cheer her every antic. We can’t get enough of her, and she knows it, playing us like a favorite tune. Tonight as we sat together in the living room, Skylar began turning in circles, making sure her eyes scanned our three faces and those of her parents as she spun around again and again, knowing she was bringing delight to us as we laughed at her. The world is her stage, and everyone she meets is her audience.

That’s probably why God sent Micah.

If there’s one thing we can be sure of, Skylar is not the center of the universe. That would be God. The fact that all of us used to be one year olds who agreed with Skylar’s point of view is solid evidence for original sin. When we were toddlers and didn’t get our way, tantrums erupted, a talent Skylar has mastered. Although most of us have had quite a few years to move away from such outbursts, sometimes tantrums still take over on the inside.

Enjoying life at center stage is most likely the most serious of all sins. If the world revolves around me, why would I need God? If I’m in the middle, that means God must be on the periphery. Although Skylar and all toddlers are too busy captivating audiences to care about that, I sure should.

As a college student I volunteered briefly with Campus Crusade. We used a pamphlet called “The Four Spiritual Laws” to explain the Gospel to interested people. One of the illustrations in the small booklet showed the “throne” of our lives with “S” for Skylar sitting on it, running the show. (Actually the “S” stands for self.) Everything else in life, according to the drawing, revolved around the decisions that came from the throne, a perfect picture of toddlerhood.

When the self dominates, Jesus is kept at a distance to be sure he doesn’t interfere with the self getting her way.

Thankfully, Micah’s arrival into Skylar’s life (as God’s instrument of change) will be her first opportunity to discover she isn’t at the center after all, an unwelcome bit of truth with which she will struggle mightily. Knowing Skylar, this wrestling match will continue for quite a while. But God knew about her strong will ahead of time and placed her with parents who are spiritually mature beyond their years, ready and eager to teach her the hard stuff. They’ll educate her, coach her, train her and cheer her on as she learns how difficult yet satisfying it is to submit her life to God. Best of all, they’ll model it day after day, year after year. They’ll also have an able assistant in baby brother Micah who will gradually edge his way toward Skylar’s throne/stage/universe.

As for the rest of us, when we see how blatantly Skylar or any other one year old unashamedly puts herself first, we laugh at such selfish presumption. I hope I’m able to laugh at myself the same way if I’m ever tempted to jump onto center stage. Besides, if Skylar and I were up there together, I wouldn’t stand a chance.

”Pride goes before destruction, and haughtiness before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18)

Watching Linnea and Adam work with Skylar and Micah is exhausting. This afternoon as Linnea fed Micah in the bedroom, I was in charge of Skylar, fresh up from a brief nap. (All her naps are brief.) While trying to read her a book, the last thing I remember was her pointing out that the throw pillow on the couch was green. It was when I put my head next to the pillow that I went unconscious. Thankfully it wasn’t but a minute or two before she yanked the pillow out from under my head, and I was back on duty. What do I have to be tired about? I’m only the grandma.

I marvel as I watch Skylar’s soft-spoken, patient parents deal with her and her baby brother, never breaking stride, never breaking down. Tonight, as the rest of us were watching a family slide show on TV, Skylar suddenly had the desire to scream as loud as she could. Nothing was wrong, and she hadn’t been frustrated trying to make something work. She just felt like screaming.

This 18 month old reached a volume so loud we were all incredulous such room-filling shrieks could come from the lungs of such a small person. Bath time arrived quickly after that, but the frenzy continued into the tub and eventually into her room as her daddy put her into her PJs, once again without breaking stride. Even with the door closed, all we could do in the next room was look at each other and whisper, “Wow…” Patient Jack began whining to be let outside.

Parenthood is difficult. Linnea read more than 20 books in preparation for it and was still in shock when reality hit. Then after having finally found a system that worked, adding a second baby to the family has demanded a complete overhaul. New rules and higher stress levels accompany the changes in this family and others, as young parents are often stretched to the limit. That’s why TV shows about large families are fascinating. We watch and wonder, “How do they do it?”

God could have made parenting children as easy as growing vegetables in a garden. Instead he set it up so young moms and dads fall off the cliff of exhaustion and surrender even such basic rights as privacy in the bathroom or being able to eat. There must be something valuable about starting off with such deprivation, and it probably has something to do with becoming a better person by being forced to sacrifice.

If we’re given the option of sacrificing our own quality of life for the benefit of another adult, we’re not likely to do much of it. But when a young child requires exactly that, we willingly give. The reason is because babies aren’t capable of doing anything for themselves, and their parents know it. They sacrifice according to the need. Maybe that’s why it’s hard for adults to give significantly to one another. Unlike babies, all of us are too good at hiding our needs.

Tonight Linnea and Adam may not get much sleep as they sacrifice and care for newborn Micah, but no matter, because tomorrow will bring a clean slate. After the demands of today with their resources depleted, they’ll greet the dawn with a fresh supply of whatever is needed, even if dealing with needless screaming becomes part of what’s demanded.

And therein lies the key to successful sacrificing for all of us. When we give without expecting anything in return (as we do for little children), God provides a fresh supply of whatever has been used up so that we can give again. We can serve, endure, assist and help without worrying we’ll run out, because strangely, as we pour ourselves out with selfless motives, God pours more in, according to the need.

“Don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure, for God loves a person who gives cheerfully. And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others.” (2 Corinthians 9:7-8)