Dear Jesus

His scream indicated pain more than annoyance, so I laid the dishtowel on the counter and walked down the steps to evaluate the situation.  (As this was child number eight of eight, my response time has significantly decreased.)  His pain was real, though his tears were few.  In his zeal for play, his little finger had found its way wedged between two doors.  Little guy, I would have cried too.

His sister, not always too forthright with compassion, gave the wisest answer of the day.  "God will heal it."  Well, yes he can, honey.

Right there sitting on the basement stairs she prayed for her brother that God would make his finger feel better.  The cuteness factor kicked in as she finished her plea, "And God can you do it now so we can play dress up again."  Her motive exposed, she went back to playing.  His sobs subsided, and the giggles soon returned.

I finished the dishes, but I now had a fresh perspective shared through the eyes of a child.  God cares about all the little things, even boo-boos.  The hard part about prayer is waiting.  My little one was in no  mood to wait for things to get back to where they had been.  I am not much different.  Open my heart and you will see impatience and, dare I say it, arrogance which fight against what I feel is poor timing on God's part.  Yes, I feel like a heretic, aghast at my impertinence.  

God is perfect and holy in his timing.  He created perfectly in perfect time.  He has a perfect time for all things to end and new things to begin.  At no time has God forgotten me, but he has watched that all things fit perfectly in his plan.  

My prayers may not be so bodly spoken as my little girl, but my motive is clear.  

Lord, help me to be satisfied and patient in waiting for you to answer my prayer.  You know my heart, and for that I am thankful.  You still listen even in my arrogance.