The Divine Art of Parenting

God, don’t you ever get tickled
with the likes of us, chasing our tails
in the hunt of your grace, when you sit
in our very souls, your gift to us
resting in the palms of your hands?

Doesn’t it frustrate you to hear us, your children,
praying to you for a hand to lift us to safety
while ignoring the hand held out to us
as if there was really a difference between you, our family,
and the hand of a stranger wearing unfamiliar skin?

God, doesn't it ever sadden you
to see your children fight over crumbs,
and kill over who can be called your chosen people
because we cannot believe you could love us all
at the same time, without condition or restraint?

As I look back at my children in the rear view mirror,
fighting over who gets to tell me first about their day,
even this saddens me, for how could I possibly decide
without one feeling somehow less in the process?
Do you ever feel that way too?

When I hold out my hand to my fallen child
and my little one says “No mommy,
I don’t need you.  I want to do it myself,”
even my heart is sore from the wounding.

And every time I make a careless mistake
and the world doesn't crash down around me,
or when I say something that could be taking wrong
and someone understands my intent, rather than
focusing on my words, I have to whisper
“Thank you” for that little note of grace,
forgiveness echoing from my soul,
your little message, perhaps?

For isn’t that the music of a parent’s joy
when our children finally understand
that all they need to do is ask
and be forgiven and most of all,
that they will never truly be lost or alone?