By Audrey Bivins 
“When can I have a phone?” my sweet daughter asked from the backseat of the van. “Gabby and Megan already have phones. Lexi’s mom said she can have one next year.”
Because we had already had this same discussion several times, I opted not to talk about ages, maturity, or the tech addictions I see in my high school students. Instead, I responded, “You’re better off not comparing yourself to others.”
Immediately, I felt convicted. In an experience unlike any other I’ve had before, the Holy Spirit spoke to me, using my words, even as I was saying them. I inwardly sighed, knowing I was instructing my 9-year-old daughter on wisdom I often don’t take to heart. I, too, find myself comparing my situation with others. While she was comparing phone privileges, I often look at other people’s accomplishments, jobs, vacations, and even appearances and wonder why I don’t have what they have.
I am asking my daughter to trust that my husband and I are making the best decisions we can, with all the information we have, about how to raise her. I’m asking her to trust that we have her best interests in mind when we have said, “Not yet.” I’m asking her to trust us even though we do make mistakes sometimes. How much more can I trust God, who makes no mistakes, and knows the past and future, when he says, “Not that job,” or “Not right now”?
From my limited vantage point, the grass often does look greener on the other side of the fence. It is easy to wonder why that person seems to have career opportunities just fall into her lap, or why another seems to be effortlessly beautiful and thin. But my vantage point is not good, after all, and I certainly don’t know all that God knows.
I remember in high school wondering why God gave the cheerleader in my choir class such beautiful, curly, blonde hair. Her appearance was perfect every day, and from my naive position, I just assumed God had made her that way. I wondered why he hadn’t given those same gifts to me. I was shocked to later hear her say she got her hair color treated every month, and that she woke up an hour early every day to hot roll her hair. I had assumed she was naturally beautiful and I wasn’t. I had a poor vantage point.
I now know enough to realize no one looks perfect every day naturally, but I still make the same mistakes in other areas. I see a friend holding a job I would like, but not the time she has to sacrifice with her children to keep it. I see a friend in amazing shape, but not the discipline and effort she puts into maintaining that level of physical fitness. I see an acquaintance with a beautiful new home but am not privy to the financial decisions and burdens behind that purchase.
I’m better off not comparing myself to others because, from my poor vantage point, I won’t see the whole picture. What I can focus on is my good heavenly Father, who not only meets my needs but gives good gifts. Despite my best efforts, I won’t always make the right decisions about what to give or withhold from my children; however, I can trust that God will.
“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7: 9-11)
by Adria Giordano 
by Kendra Barnes 
by Brandi Jarrett 
