As I was checking out at Target last week, Bryce climbed up on the edge of the counter, peered over, and started, “Can I pweese have a ring?”
The clerk looked confused. I rolled my eyes, “Buddy, that’s the grocery store. They don’t have rings here.”
He continued, undaunted, “How ‘bout a cookie?”
The clerk smiled back, “I have stickers.”
Bryce pondered that for a moment and shrugged, “Ok.”
Just then, one of the managers quickly walked up behind us, passed our register, shouting into her headset for extra cashiers. She walked quickly and talked sternly, focused on her mission.
Bryce glanced up and fell backwards off of the counter. He pointed at her terrified and screamed, “MOM! It’s Mother Golf ball!!!! Help! She’s gonna get me!”
I scrambled to quiet him before she heard him. He screamed again, “MOM! Wook! It’s Mother Golf ball!!!!!!!”
I looked up embarrassed and speechless all at the same time. I tried hard not to laugh…well, cry…really, both. The manager had long black wiry hair. To my little imaginative 4 year old, she looked just like the evil witch from Disney’s “Tangled,” Mother Gothel (AKA Mother Golf ball.)
He grabbed for me and hid under my sweater. I ran out as quickly as I could comforting him along the way.
That night, Coach put him to bed.
Within seconds he heard, “Daddy! Daddy!” Bryce screamed at the top of his lungs. Coach ran to check on him and found him pointing to the culprit.
I laughed as Coach told me the story. Bryce terrified that his little cup of seeds would grow into a bean stalk in the middle of the night, and a giant would climb down to get him.
It can really get the best of us.
You may laugh at the fears of my 4 year old, but what are our fears?
I have lots of fears. I always have as long as I can remember. I’m a worrier by nature, and like my 4 year old, have always had a large imagination, so my mind automatically wanders to the “what if’s,” to the “worst case scenarios.”
Last week, I took one of my children to have something checked at the Doctor. We ended up having to have blood drawn and are awaiting test results. The results could show that the cause of the problem is something fairly benign, or it could show something more serious. My mind has already gone to the worst case scenario. I have had a hard time giving those fears over to God this week.
I remember when my oldest, Grace, was a baby. I struggled with letting her go anywhere without me. I was a complete wreck. Hanging on to her with my whole heart for dear life….seriously afraid that if I let her out of my sight for one second, even with those I trusted, that something terrible would happen. I still struggle with that.
One day when she was still a baby, a friend helped me to see it this way:
You are torn up inside with worry. It’s killing you. Do you trust God with Grace?
My answer? Well of course I trust God with her; He’s the one that gave her to me. He only wants the perfect best for both of us. But was I really trusting Him? Was I trusting that no matter the “what if’s” in life, God was holding her and me in His hands?
When we are fearful, are we trusting God? Or are we hanging on to what we want with all of our might?
Fear can be described as our lack of faith in God’s very best for us.
That’s hard to swallow. I had to release those fears when she was little, but I am still having to let them go…struggling with fear. Now it’s just multiplied by 4. What is God’s very best for us? Only God can see that big picture. I have no idea what that looks like, and I’m sad to admit that sometimes it scares me.
No matter what, I have to remember that God created me. He created my children. He gave them to me for a time…to love and to teach them to love God and to have compasstion on others. I have been entrusted with them, but God only knows for how long. I must trust that He is holding them and that He is holding me…