It’s 3:00 in the afternoon, and you know the scene—I step on a tiny Barbie shoe as I’m walking to the sink. I shove it to the side with my foot and release a heavy sigh. I momentarily think about picking it up, but my back is aching from bending down to gather up treasures all morning. I place my half-filled coffee cup into the microwave to re-heat it for a second time. I need just an ounce of energy to get through the afternoon.

My daughter heaves another basket of toys up from the basement, step by step. I can hear the renegade toys falling with each thud of the basket. They roll down the steps and land with a crash. I plead with her to stop, twice, and leave the toys where they are at. But she’s nothing if not determined.

I brace my hands on the sink and close my eyes.

I’m so tired.

Like mind-numbing, name forgetting, foggy-brain tired. At the top of the steps, she drops the entire basket on her foot. I cringe as the clatter fills the room, followed by her tears, and I think to myself, Why? Why won’t she listen to me? WHY? 

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I only want what’s best for her—I had just explained that I would go downstairs and sit with her while she played, specifically asking her not to carry her toys up the steps because she could get hurt. 

I walk over to her and bend down saying, “Look at me.” She cries harder and stares at the ground, knowing she shouldn’t have done it. “Look at me,” I say again. “Please.” She slowly lifts her eyes to mine, and I can see the hurt. 

And then it hit me. Hard. And it all becomes clear. How many times has my Heavenly Father asked this of me? How many times has He pleaded with me to just stop and listen to him?

How many times has He pleaded for me to stop and look up to Him?

If only I wouldn’t be so stubborn to do things my way, I would see that He only wants what’s best for me. He wants to keep me from the pain and mistakes He can see coming. 

“I love you,” I say as I gently touch her chin, knowing exactly how she feels at this moment, thinking of all the times I have ignored God’s very same plea.

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As I kiss her nose, I hear Lauren Daigle’s “Look Up Child” playing ironically in the background, and I can’t help but smile. 

God is using our little ones to speak to us.

Maybe next time I’ll stop and listen. 

Originally published on the author’s Facebook page