The other day as I was spending time on the porch journaling little Antonio wandered back and climbed up onto my lap. Of course he immediately wanted the pen so that he could scribble in my journal. Before too long he placed his hand in the middle of the paper and tried to trace his hand. After watching him struggle for a second I moved his hand to a clean spot on the page and began to trace it for him. The entire time I was tracing he kept trying to move his hand so he could see it. He didn't understand why I wouldn't hurry up and I couldn't seem to explain to him that it would come out better if we took our time. Finally, we managed to get it completely traced and as he pulled his hand away for the final time I couldn't help but think it would have turned out so much better if he had just waited until I was done to see the final product.
Then it hit me....how often am I like that with God. How often do I try to take the pen in my own hand and do it myself. Only to find that even as I begin it is more of a struggle than I thought it would be. Then as God gently takes the pen out of my hand and places it back in His own I can't seem to find the patience to wait until He is done before I try and see the final picture. However, because He loves me God continues on writing my story...even as I wiggle, pull, push, and move all over the page. When the final mark has been made and the picture is complete I always stand back in awe of what God did despite all the moving on my part. Yet more than that I am hit with the realization that as I rushed Him on He had been gently trying to convince me that it would turn out better if we simply took more time.
After a year of being here I still am amazed at the things God teaches me even through the youngest of our kids. I pray that I never stop hearing His voice and seeing His lessons in them.