I Stomp My Foot

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Standing in the kitchen, a scene repeated through all six of my children, my youngest in age and stature stomps his foot in protest over my instructions.  As in the past, the child is not willing to submit to the loving, caring and wiser wisdom of his mother.  In his mind he knows what is right for him and, therefore, he boldly looks up at me with determination in his voice for me to yield my guidance in his life.

Each time I refrain myself from laughter.  Can he not see how much taller I am than he is?  Can he not understand that I weigh...well, let's say a couple of times more than him?  Can he not comprehend that standing in defiance is only going to make life rougher for him?  Can he not understand I only want what is best for him?

I gently correct...while watching this little man protest and refraining from the laughter this familiar scene evokes.

There I stand, stomping my feet, questioning the decisions of a mighty, loving, wise and faithful God.  I am breathing because He gave me breath.  I am standing questioning because He has chosen not to rebuke me by letting the ground open up and swallow me.  There I stand, not submitting to His authority in my life.

My mind goes back to the kitchen protest....doesn't God feel the same way about me?  Shouldn't I bow to the All-Mighty and submit? Instead, I so arrogantly stomp my feet.  He patiently waits for me to submit to His loving hand.  I pray I will learn to kneel instead to His Sovereignty without stomping my feet.