Telling Tales

One of the things I appreciated most about my dad was the fact that he was a great storyteller. It helped that he had an exceptional memory so for almost every occasion he could recall something that was appropriate to share. It wasn’t uncommon to find him holding court, capturing people’s attention with his latest anecdote.  It often surprised me because my dad was actually kind of a shy guy. But when he had something to share, people listened.

This wasn’t a practice that my dad reserved for entertaining others; it was habit that he adopted in interacting with his family too. He told us tales of his childhood and he would share what happened at work. We weren’t ancillary to his life; through his stories he invited us to know about his past and his present. He was careful never to burden us with anything that was beyond what our young hearts could handle, but as the years progressed, so did what he shared.  Now that I think about, his stories were one of his most used instructional tools. As God taught him things, he taught them to us.

Some of my dad’s favorite stories to tell were the ones that demonstrated the pattern of God’s faithfulness in our family’s life. He would share how my mom got a job offer for a teaching job when we were supposed to be on vacation. That may not seem significant in and of itself, except the reason that we weren’t on our scheduled trip was because he had been laid off. Additionally my mom had applied for the job two years previously so the call was unexpected to say the least. Another favorite story was how how God prepared him for his eventual career by taking him through various twists and “detours,” and only in retrospect did he realize that each step along the way, he was learning new skills that would equip him for the work that lay ahead.  He would talk about how God directed him to the Naval Academy or how He orchestrated our move to California. Through every phase of our family’s life my dad was keen to learn what God was teaching him. And by sharing with us, he made sure we learned those lessons as well.

Even now, when the way forward seems uncertain I reflect on the stories that my dad shared. The pattern of God’s faithfulness in my dad’s life gives me confidence that God will prove to be faithful in my life as well. The history of His provision reminds me that He will give me all that I need. And from my dad I learned the importance of making sure that I too am telling the tales of what God is doing. Not only to make sure that I am taking note of His work, but so that others too may know of it too, and give Him praise.

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Trusted Provision

I have never once forgotten to feed my child.

Seriously. 

In the time that she has been in this world I have faithfully, and sometimes at the expense of sleep, given her the nourishment she needs.

I consider her feeding routine when planning my day and I prepare for her consumption needs before I leave the house. My husband and I talk about her schedule when we are making plans. Ensuring she doesn’t go hungry is a priority.

Yet despite all this care and attention. there are times that if you listened to my child when I place her in the high chair, you’d be convinced that something quite different was going on.

You may be tempted to think that food is only provided at special occasions and therefore she has to hurriedly scoop it up with rapid inefficiency.

You may be inclined to believe that she only eats when she loudly cajoles me to give her what she desires.

You may even think that I purposefully test her patience – waiting until she is miserable and upset until providing her relief.

None of these are the case.

Yet, as a friend recently reminded me, sometimes my child’s response at the dining table is similar to our response to Christ.

When my daughter gets antsy my faithfulness of the past seems to be obliterated from memory, much like when I worry about the future, forgetting about God’s steadfast provision.

I grow impatient when God’s plan doesn’t align with mine and can throw a temper tantrum that, while unseen, would put a hungry kid’s to shame.

I complain about what I lack, consuming the gifts God has given me with selfishness, entitlement and little appreciation, believing I have to protect what is “mine” lest anyone take it away.

I convince myself I am figuratively starved, when all the evidence suggest I’m well-fed.

My response and that of my kid are eerily the same.

Yet just as I desire to do good to my child, my Heavenly Father delights to do good to me (Mt. 7:11). 

And much like I shake my head at my kid’s antics, God must similarly look at us and marvel at our lack of faith.

After all, He’s always provided in the past. He promises He always will (Mt. 6:25-34).

And while I wish my child would have confidence in the moments between when I place her in the chair and the first bites enter her mouth, I’m grateful for the revealing, if painful, lesson it affords. In my own times of uncertainty, I can look back at all God has done before, and trust that wherever He has placed me now, He will continue to do the same.

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