Sometimes life is funny. Like when Elie Mae tells me she can’t go to bed because her baby needs to potty.
Me: What in thee world?
Elie: The baby feels like she has to poop.
Me: Elie, WHAT in thee world?!
Elie (talks to her baby): I’m gonna be sad if you fall in.
Sometimes life is sweet. Like when Elie Mae explains love to Tophs (I’m pretty sure he never asked)–
Elie: Tophs, Mommy and Daddy love each other because God gave them to each other, Tophs. That’s why.
Tophs: [Feins sudden case of rickets.]
Elie: They love each other because God gave them to each other.
Tophs: [Recalls Shawshank. Eyes cinder block walls and reaches for his Jesus Storybook Bible.]
Other times, it’s tough. We face challenges, our kids face challenges. We hurt because our kids face challenges. We try to think the right way, pray the right way, make all the right moves because we are responsible for their health and development, and if we fail to fix this, then they could fail.
A friend of mine gave me the best Valentine’s Day gift ever. Last weekend, she spoke at a breakfast for over 80 women. I’d rather get ten oil changes at Jiffy Lube than talk to a group of women on Valentine’s Day. Like what can you say that’s new or that matters?
I’ll tell you what my friend did. My friend, who is no stranger to struggle, said to us: You are God’s masterpiece.
If you know me, you know that I can’t handle fluff. I want to know: What do you mean I’m God’s masterpiece? Who says so? I can’t take the risk of buying into something that could fall flat.
Here’s the scripture it comes from: For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago (Ephesians 2:10).
I can’t tell you what it felt like for me–a broken, flawed, and often insecure woman–to consider myself God’s masterpiece. Even more, I can’t tell you what burden broke and fell from my shoulders as, that night, I snuggled in close to my children and cried, realizing that they, too, are God’s masterpieces. This doesn’t hide or destroy or deny our challenges. It does allow me to pan out, see a fuller picture, and then realize there’s so much of the picture I’ll never even see. But if I’m praying, if I’m really believing that Jesus did the Impossible, then I’m also holding on to the fact that He sees my children, is not surprised by what concerns me, and sees a masterpiece in the midst of it all. He, after all, never intended for me to fix much of anything. He, instead, has asked me to abide. Now that’s something I can try.