A Little Vignette

Yesterday my daughter, Lillian, was sitting rear-facing in the back seat of the car as I drove around town doing some errands. I had gotten everything situated for her. She had he water cup, a book and her precious little stuffed doggy, Bebe, which she brings everywhere. I had attached a pacifier tether to the dog so that if it fell away she could pull it back up. I had everything laid out for her, it was a perfect plan.

As we drove I heard Lilly raising a fuss. She was whining and fighting against her seat straps because her dog had fallen below her feet and was wedged between her seat and the back seat of the car. She was distressed. I was vigilant. I could see her struggling in my rear view mirror. "Pull the string," I said. She touched the tether and examined it, but then dropped it and continued trying desperately to reach Bebe. "Pull the string, sweetheart," I said. She cried harder and tried to reach down past her toes. She didn't see what any string had to do with getting Bebe back. 

"Pull the string," I said one more time. Suddenly the car was filled only with silence and the sound of Sally Robb talking about the mercy and fatherhood of God. Lilly had pulled the tether and brought Bebe joyfully back into her arms. She reclined with droopy eyes in her seat, her thumb and the dog's ear in mouth.

I couldn't help but think that God does the same for me. He sets things up in a particular way, and sometimes I fight them. I look at the pieces and they don't seem to add up. I struggle and fuss in my confusion and desperation. He is ever patient, ever waiting for me to do as he said. He won't force me, only encourage. I have to remember that He's got this. I am cradled in his perfect plan. My eyes should be ever fixed on Him in trust, ignoring the seemingly impossible situation. The piece that didn't seem to fit may be the piece that perfectly brings everything together.