Milk Please!
NOTE: I wrote this about 2 months ago. Since then, the "milk, PLEASE!" phenomena has pretty much subsided but the lesson remains.
Our daughter is 18 months old. By my rough calculation we have fed her milk at least 2,300 times. We have given her milk on every day of her short life. The majority of these were when Angela nursed her and I am also including bottles of formula and (now) cow’s milk served with meals. Now, Jadon knows this, to some extent. She does not know how much we have thought about her getting milk. She does not know that Angela worried and probably lost sleep over Jadon nursing. She does not know that we have tried to measure her milk supply and make sure that she gets enough. She almost certainly does not know that, from the moment she was born, we would, if necessary, ourselves go without eating, give up material things, or suffer hardships to ensure that she got enough milk to survive. But we would, without a doubt, do these things.
Often at meal time we now have a rather comical routine. Once it is near time to eat, Jadon will ask for milk—‘milk, please’. This will usually continue for a few minutes until we explain that there will be milk with the meal. Sometimes that is good enough, sometimes not. Sometimes she continues to ask with added emphasis—‘milk, PLEASE!’. Add in any daily trauma, such as being really sleepy, being sick, or being really hungry and things go south. The asking turns into loud asking and then into yelling. She has, on occasion, sat at the table with milk in full sight, after being told she could have it in a minute and cried until her face was red saying, you guessed it—‘MILK, PLEASE!’.
Now this is sometimes sad, sometimes frustrating, and sometimes ridiculous. We try to teach her to appropriately voice her needs and then exhibit patience. Of course, as I mentioned, she is 18 months old. So we go on with the teaching, hoping that as she grows she will “get it”. But what is interesting is what I am learning from this experience. I have seen too much of myself in her demands for milk. I realize that, like Jadon, I too have been cared for in every way. I realize God, my Father, has given me everything I need. He has never failed to sustain me or my family. He has never forsaken us and He never will and, unlike Jadon’s father, He is perfect.
But still I doubt. Still I sometimes wonder if this will be the day that He doesn’t come through. If this will be the one day in the history of the universe that God doesn’t make good on His promise and then I complain. I demand what I want and get angry for not having it now. I know in my heart that, if I had been there, I very well could have been among the number that asked Moses if there weren’t enough graves in Egypt (Exodus 14:11). I know that if I had been among the thirsty at Massah and Meribah (Exodus 17:1-7) I would have very likely demanded water immediately, even after seeing proof of God’s work and seeing manna drop from heaven. And so is our nature. Like an 18-month-old, we often see the here now and not the big picture. We see our current needs (or wants) and not far beyond. We demand that that giver of all good things operate on our time table. Deep down, we are certain that our case must be an exception to all the other cases in the world. But God is patient and kind and does meet our needs (Phil 4:19).
So as Jadon grows in stature and (hopefully) wisdom I do pray that she learns to deal with her feelings and wants in a more positive way. But I also pray that I (and she) might see the silliness of worrying and doubting when God has been so faithful. I pray that I can learn that I am even more dependant on God for sustenance than my daughter is on me. I pray that when I am tempted to do the equivalent of crying and hitting the table and yelling ‘milk, please!” that I can remember His goodness. I pray that He would write Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 12:9 on my heart:
Our daughter is 18 months old. By my rough calculation we have fed her milk at least 2,300 times. We have given her milk on every day of her short life. The majority of these were when Angela nursed her and I am also including bottles of formula and (now) cow’s milk served with meals. Now, Jadon knows this, to some extent. She does not know how much we have thought about her getting milk. She does not know that Angela worried and probably lost sleep over Jadon nursing. She does not know that we have tried to measure her milk supply and make sure that she gets enough. She almost certainly does not know that, from the moment she was born, we would, if necessary, ourselves go without eating, give up material things, or suffer hardships to ensure that she got enough milk to survive. But we would, without a doubt, do these things.
Often at meal time we now have a rather comical routine. Once it is near time to eat, Jadon will ask for milk—‘milk, please’. This will usually continue for a few minutes until we explain that there will be milk with the meal. Sometimes that is good enough, sometimes not. Sometimes she continues to ask with added emphasis—‘milk, PLEASE!’. Add in any daily trauma, such as being really sleepy, being sick, or being really hungry and things go south. The asking turns into loud asking and then into yelling. She has, on occasion, sat at the table with milk in full sight, after being told she could have it in a minute and cried until her face was red saying, you guessed it—‘MILK, PLEASE!’.
Now this is sometimes sad, sometimes frustrating, and sometimes ridiculous. We try to teach her to appropriately voice her needs and then exhibit patience. Of course, as I mentioned, she is 18 months old. So we go on with the teaching, hoping that as she grows she will “get it”. But what is interesting is what I am learning from this experience. I have seen too much of myself in her demands for milk. I realize that, like Jadon, I too have been cared for in every way. I realize God, my Father, has given me everything I need. He has never failed to sustain me or my family. He has never forsaken us and He never will and, unlike Jadon’s father, He is perfect.
But still I doubt. Still I sometimes wonder if this will be the day that He doesn’t come through. If this will be the one day in the history of the universe that God doesn’t make good on His promise and then I complain. I demand what I want and get angry for not having it now. I know in my heart that, if I had been there, I very well could have been among the number that asked Moses if there weren’t enough graves in Egypt (Exodus 14:11). I know that if I had been among the thirsty at Massah and Meribah (Exodus 17:1-7) I would have very likely demanded water immediately, even after seeing proof of God’s work and seeing manna drop from heaven. And so is our nature. Like an 18-month-old, we often see the here now and not the big picture. We see our current needs (or wants) and not far beyond. We demand that that giver of all good things operate on our time table. Deep down, we are certain that our case must be an exception to all the other cases in the world. But God is patient and kind and does meet our needs (Phil 4:19).
So as Jadon grows in stature and (hopefully) wisdom I do pray that she learns to deal with her feelings and wants in a more positive way. But I also pray that I (and she) might see the silliness of worrying and doubting when God has been so faithful. I pray that I can learn that I am even more dependant on God for sustenance than my daughter is on me. I pray that when I am tempted to do the equivalent of crying and hitting the table and yelling ‘milk, please!” that I can remember His goodness. I pray that He would write Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 12:9 on my heart:
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect
in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my
weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
posted by BKC | 4:28 AM
1 Comments:
I am rereading your blog...time for some new Stuff...Please
Ma
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