Wednesday, February 8, 2012

your life is perfect, without the pigeons.

I’ve always felt it true that I learn the most about God from little children. Or at least, I pay attention to His lessons more when He uses them to teach me something. A few Sundays ago, I was with my best and the love of my life tinee tot Savannah. We were sitting at In ‘N Out laughing and playing and talking about life. Ron was telling me about the things she’s learning and how sometimes she just wants to turn to Savannah and say, “your life is perfect.” She told me about how sometimes she’ll plan the perfect day, using any extra money they have. Savannah gets to put on whatever she wants, and as they are standing OUTside of the Zoo, she will have a total tantrum meltdown. Ron says, “I just want to sit down on the ground and cry too. I look at her, and hold her tiny face in my hands and think ‘YOUR LIFE IS PERFECT’. If you could just wait to see all the great things that are inside the Zoo, and taste the $8 lemonade I’m going to buy you. But instead, she’s never going to see the elephants or the giraffe or the colorful birds, because she’s crying too hard to even make it past the entrance.”

I look over at Savannah, in the sparkly princess tutu I got her for Christmas that she immediately put over her jeans, using French-fries as more of a spoon to shovel ketchup in her mouth until she eventually just plunges her tiny fist into the paper container and brings it to her mouth, washing it down with a chocolate shake & my ice tea, giggling and being adored by every passerby…and I think, “your life really is perfect kid.” A few minutes later when I swooped down and stopped her from touching a dirty pigeon she started crying like I had taken away a field of gold. I said, “oh sweetie, you don’t want that dirty pigeon, it’s gross. Here- have your shake & french-fries,” but she could not be consoled. She wanted the pigeon.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. In my sleepless nights and long days. That same night I was lying on the floor thinking about what I wouldn’t give to go back and appreciate my childhood. Days full of tutus and dress up and French-fries and being spoiled and loved. But would I appreciate it if I had the chance? Or would I just cry about pigeons when I had a chocolate shake right in front of me. Would I sit outside the Zoo, never seeing all the beautiful animals. As I laid on the floor, listening to records and thinking about this, something in my head said, “your life is perfect. your life, is perfect.” I had this idea of God kindly lying on His back next to me and gently saying, “Stop thinking so much. Stop staying up late thinking about a boy, wishing, or about the things you’ve done out of character, or about words from a song, or all the things you may never know the answers to. Stop being so sad or ungrateful. I gave you Parsons! You’re moving to Paris!! (Your life iiis perfect.) If you don’t make it past the entrance, you’re never going to see all the good things I have for you.” 

It’s sobering, how much we are like small children some times (and a little embarrassing). 
We’re all just growing up together until the day we die.

So... I’ve learned some lessons (mostly from little children)
…and I suppose I’ll keep learning them. 
And I’ll keep walking into all the good things that are waiting for me, 
trying with all my might to appreciate them, 
being grateful for chocolate shakes and french-fries, instead of chasing pigeons. 
no matter how bad I want the pigeon.