This week is Desta’s school book fair. Not only do they sell books, there are also trinkets, plastic thing a jigs, pencils, toys and posters. Yep, an elementary student’s paradise for spending their parent’s money.
Every year this book fair causes so much frustration and tears in our home. “But Mama, this girl gets to take HER money to school. Why can’t I? I just want one, okay, maybe two, but honestly only three things.” The conversations are endless – the passion to own STUFF is insatiable.
I know my child is not the only one. I’ve been to the BOOK FAIR and I’ve heard PLENTY of conversations between a parent and child that have ended in tears. Because kids are not that much different than adults are they? They see something, they think that something will make them feel better, they WANT that something and they gotta have that something. Oh sure, the stakes are pretty low when it comes to plastic pen toppers and invisible ink. Those stakes are so much higher when it comes to adulthood.
In an effort to help Desta learn a bit about delayed gratification and patience, Matt made a deal with her. Today she must wait until 3:15 when he comes for the conference before she can get her wish list items. You’d have thought we were suggesting she’d enter a torture chamber. Wait until 3:15? OH.MY.GOSH
And at that very moment, I was painfully reminded of my own tantrums. Little does Desta know that when her Daddy shows up, he’s going to get that entire list for her. He has a plan for AMAZING things for her, gifts that will be abundant and lovely. However, all she sees is that she cannot buy a gummy bear eraser during the day today.
I’m like that. I know exactly what I think I need and want. I have my plans. I KNOW what is best for me right? So when God says “wait” I throw a fit. What, you mean I have to be patient? I have to actually rest and wait.
Ah….there is an abundance waiting for me but instead of just sitting and letting God work in his time, I’m so set on my time that I miss the big gift, the blessing. See, we aren’t that much different from our kids are we?