Today, we took the kids to a playground. I never ceased to be amazed at the way Josh's confidence changes at playgrounds. At first, he'll be all over it, climbing, sliding, jumping. Eventually, though, he gets to a point where he climbs something a little higher than he feels comfortable, and he starts to freak out a bit.
All it takes, though, is for me to walk over, let him know I'm there, that I've got him, that I won't let him fall, and he can keep going.
I know I react a lot like that on the playground that is life. I get all cocky, thinking I can handle whatever comes my way, until things get a bit out of control, then I look for God's hands to hold me, to remind me that actually He's got it all under control, and that he won't let me fall. While that's comforting, it grieves me to a degree, too. I shouldn't just reach out for God when things are tough, but need to realise He's actually enveloping me all the time, and that I need to involve him consciously in the pleasure of every part of daily life, not just when things get out of control.
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