For He Knows What We Are Made Of

I stood outside their bedroom door tonight after tucking them in, leaning on the frame, listening. Curious if they would fall asleep quickly or if there might be some cute dialogue between the two of them. Usually I break away for the computer or a book — some place to decompress after a mentally-draining day, but tonight I lingered, wanting to soak in a motherhood moment.

“Did mommy leave?” asks the younger. “Yes.”

“Didshee come in dust to top?” he says in his usual not-so-easy-to-understand 3-year-old-ese. “What?”

“DID she come in dust to talK?” he enunciated the k better this time.

“Just to talk?” “Yes.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh.”

And I waited for the frustrated red-haired response much like a shrill siren, pleading with Peter to understand him, but it didn’t come. Things were quiet with just a little blanket rustling and slow sighs. Sleep became more important than being understood.

And the thought flashed across my little brain — God knows we won’t always understand. He waits for us to mature, experience more of life, learn to think more deeply and react less hastily. He is so patient with us. 

Finding perspective from the middle of something very burdensome can feel impossible. We don’t see the big picture at all. We feel everything that is happening to us right now. We’re in the thick of it.

Sometimes I ache to understand, to be able to put one foot in front of the other with a clear direction in mind, with purpose.

Sometimes I ache to BE understood, with all my idiosyncrasies and quirks, not thought of as strange or ridiculous, just OK as is.

But whether we want to understand the ways of life or to be understood, God remembers that we are as little children, speaking yet out of innocence and naivety. We don’t understand. We just don’t get it. But that’s OK. He knows.

For He knows what we are made of;
He knows our frame is frail, and He remembers we came from dust. Psalm 103:14

He simply asks that we Rest. In. Him. Realizing our childishness, realizing that our f-stop is low and much of the picture is still blurry, realizing that we are dust.

We can completely trust Him. We can snuggle up beneath the warm covers and fall fast asleep in His arms. Even if we don’t understand.