As I was making lunch yesterday, I called my daughter into the kitchen and told her to bring her full Halloween candy pail. I was going to let her pick one piece and put it on her plate for lunch alongside her PB&J sandwich.
After she spent some time picking one, I told her to put the piece of candy on her plate.
She responded, “I thought you were going to have me eat one more piece and then throw the rest of it away.”
(To be honest, we did do that to our kids last year, but it was about a month after Halloween when they were down to the dregs. Black and orange wrapped peanut butter candies, smushed Smarties packets, Halloween sadness.)
As she danced happily away with her candy, I thought how trusting, how obedient she was to walk in with her pail, even when she didn’t want to. She thought she would have to throw away all of her hard-earned (in her eyes) candy.
My role as her parent is so influential, so powerful.
It was within my power to have her toss it all in the garbage, and she would not have had any say in the matter if I were to have decided that.
That power, that authority, is so sacred and special. My job is so important.
I love that I was able to tell her, “Yes, you can keep it,” instead of, “No.” I love that she trusted me enough to come to me with her treasure.
It made me think about how seriously my Father takes his role. The days I come to him with a burning question and fear in my heart. Sometimes, He has to say no. I know that’s how this works.
But it must give him boundless joy, it must fill him up when he can say “Yes!” to me in something and know that I will skip away happy and pleased.
I want to parent with the yesses in mind. I know my children’s safety, health and growth depend on me knowing when to say no. But when I can, I love to send them off with treasure-piles of “Yes.”
I learned that from my Heavenly Father.