Journeying Mercy

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Traveling with young children isn’t for the faint of heart. Parents have to plan ahead as much for a road trip with little ones as for the vacation destination itself, and that includes providing something for them to do hour after hour. We might call this journeying mercy, because fussy children can make for miserable miles.

Nate and I took our kids on countless road trips, all crammed into a station wagon. I recall one memorable journey during which we had the back seats folded flat, suitcases spread evenly like giant bricks that raised the floor, and children lying atop the luggage like sausages lined up in a fry pan. It was the only way to fit everyone in. Nowadays we’d be stopped and our children would be taken away as wards of the state.

But we always looked at the road trip as part of the vacation, even if it was 1500 miles long.

That is, unless we had a baby on board.

I remember one trip in particular when one of our toddlers tried to literally chew her way through her car-seat strap in an effort to set herself free, screaming between every chew.

I also recall being desperate to stop one of our 3 month olds from crying, buying her a Dairy Queen cone and feeding it to her in tiny bites, her first food other than breast milk. It worked beautifully, at least for a few miles.

Tonight Linnea, Adam, and their 3 little ones arrived in our driveway after two days on the road, just in time for a pot roast dinner. They were grateful to end their long journey, because little Autumn, 9 months old, had been a traveling challenge all the way. Skylar and Micah, ages 4 and 2, had a general understanding that Grandma Midgee’s house was far, far away and it would take many hours to get there.

But Autumn? She couldn’t understand and lost patience in a hurry, letting everyone know she wasn’t happy with the length of the trip.

She acted much like I sometimes do when traveling with the Lord through days and weeks of time. If I don’t know how much longer the project or trial will last, I cry out to him in a mix of frustration and irritation. “Are we there yet?”

When he says no, it’s, “Waaa! How much longer do I have to endure this!”

But as Adam drove across the country from Florida to Michigan, he had his mind on a clear destination, and each mile brought his family closer to the goal. God has a clear destination in mind for me, too, even though I might not know what it is on any given day. It pleases him if I stop whining and accept the peace he offers as we move along. When I remain calm, trusting he’ll eventually put me down in a place that’s good, he’ll provide journeying mercy, all along the way.

“A person’s steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand their own way?” (Proverbs 20:24)

Partial Answers

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Tonight after dinner Hans shared an interesting conversation he’d had earlier in the day with his eldest son, Nicholas. While walking home from the local playground, Nicholas had said, “When we die and I grow up again, will we be the same?”

In the mind of a 3 year old, this was a simple question. In Hans’ 30 year old mind, an accurate answer would have been lengthy and laced with scriptural detail far too advanced for such a young chap.

So he did what wise parents do. He simplified his answer and said, “Yes. You’ll still be Nicholas, and I’ll still be Papa.”

Is this how God responds to our questions to him? Logic tells us that when we ask, he has to simplify. After all, he’s above and beyond us in all respects. He knows more, can see farther, understands better, and is the unstoppable force behind all events. He’s a complicated Being!

But there’s more to it than just simplification. Certain of our questions have answers too heavy for us to handle, much like Nicholas wasn’t ready for the full story of heavenly existence. No doubt the “why” questions we voice to God are among those with answers we’re unable to take in. If God gave us the long version, either we wouldn’t believe it or the truth would overwhelm us.

Little Nicholas didn’t need any more detail than Hans gave him. What he did need was a dose of security from his father, because behind his question was a hint of nervousness about not being able to tell who-was-who when he got to heaven. And if he got there and couldn’t find his daddy, that would be a loss too great to bear.

As we adults question God and get frustrated with his simplified or limited answers, we should remember that all we really need from him is a dose of security. We think we want the details behind our “why’s” or other questions, but deep down it’s an affirmation of God’s sovereignty that we’re really craving.

Although he may keep the long answers to himself, he never skimps on letting us know there’s nothing to worry about. Whatever the situation, he reminds us, “I’ve got it well in hand.” It was good enough for Nicholas to know he has nothing to fear about heaven, and it should be good enough for us to believe the same thing about all that concerns us, whether in the afterlife or in the present day.

We’re often discontent with God’s partial answers but should take note of how quickly satisfied Nicholas became with his father’s short answer. That trusting response might be the very reason God says little children sometimes “get it” better than learned adults. We could all take a lesson.

Jesus said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children.” (Matthew 11:25)

Worn Thin

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Today I broke something that was precious to me. Although I’ve only owned it since 2005, it belonged to my mother’s mother over 100 years ago and was put to daily use in her home at the turn of the last century. After she died, my mom used it throughout her 50 years of marriage, and after she died, I kept it busy at my house: a small, beat-up paring knife.

I blogged about this treasured possession in November, 2009 (A Sharp Surprise) when I thought I’d lost it during the hectic weeks of Nate’s illness. The house had been filled with people during those weeks, and I’d spent very little time in the kitchen, letting others do the cooking. When I finally resumed KP duty, the knife was gone.

Thankfully it turned up later, and since then I’ve used it every day. Its blade is as sharp as a razor, slicing through onions and carrots like they were butter. But tonight I demanded a little too much of that poor old knife, and now it’s ruined.

Having failed to take the meat out of the freezer in time to thaw for dinner, I tried cutting the icy blocks of chicken with Mom’s knife and bing! It snapped in two. I couldn’t believe this trusty tool had failed after 100 years of successes but there it was, lying on the counter in two pieces, no longer fit for anything except the trash bin.

Once in a while I feel much like that over-committed knife, racing through a day in which I can’t possibly accomplish everything I hope to, but trying anyway. Then comes the moment when I snap in two, forgetting what I should have remembered, or saying something I shouldn’t have said, or bursting into tears of frustration. And I become useless.

God says our days aren’t supposed to be that way. If we’re properly aligned with his purposes, snapping in half shouldn’t occur. It’s easy to get stretched as thin as Mom’s knife so that tasks we used to accomplish with ease suddenly bend and break us.

Whether we’ve taken on too much, aren’t maintaining ourselves as we should, or are simply running too fast, we’re trying to manage more than our stretched-thin selves can handle. But if we say yes to only the assignments God gives us, they’ll be perfectly matched to our time and abilities, and the burdens he’ll ask us to carry will feel delightfully lightweight.

So when we sense we’re about to snap, we should look for the reason, and we’ll find out we’re the ones responsible. But it’s never too late to turn from our own agendas and ask God to substitute his. If we’ll follow those instructions, he’ll strengthen our weak spots and prevent us from snapping in two.

And good news: unlike my hundred-year-old kitchen knife which can’t be fixed, we can be.

“You don’t need a telescope, a microscope, or a horoscope to realize the fullness of Christ… When you come to him, that fullness comes together for you, too. His power extends over everything.” (Colossians 2:9-10 The Message)