Today I looked through my closet for something decent to
wear for a casual lunch date with a friend. Could I find something nice? Maybe there's an
outfit just a little fresher than my usual stay-at-home, mother-of-pre-schooler, working
"uniform" of sweat shirts, and house slippers.
Comfortable jeans and a nice sweater sounded fine... Yes! Here's a great sweater. Okay,
now the jeans....
As I paged through my stack of blue jeans, I remembered how happy I was ten months ago
when I found three new pairs =hat fit well. I'm not one to buy many clothes for myself, so
a purchase like that was particularly satisfying. Three pairs should last quite a while,
right?
As I began pulling on the dark blue pair, my smile faded. Looking in a full-length mirror,
two perfectly round circles of very faded blue denim stared back at me from the knees of
those favorite pants.
Returning to the stack, I saw that each pair, light, medium and dark, had the same flaw.
That day I chose to wear a denim skirt instead.
But the more I thought about the discouragement at my inability to keep three pairs of
jeans presentable for more than one year, the more I saw those faded patches as something
very presentable to God.
Those worn-out knees were the telltale sign that I had spent countless hours playing horsy
("Again, Mommy!"). They were proof that my knees had made contact with all kinds
of floors to be down on my son's level. That's where I had to be to hug him, to correct
him, to tie his shoe (again...), or to zip up that tiny zipper.
Two things became clearer that morning. First, I realized that I cannot do my job
effectively if I am not on my knees. It's a job requirement, both for wiping noses and for
prayer. Second, I felt incredibly loved, remembering that my heavenly Father, the creator
of very good thing, is willing to come down to my level (in varying degrees of
cleanliness) to show he loves me, to correct me, to forgive me (again...), and to show me
the way.
As much as I would love to have more presentable blue jeans, I can see this season of
faded knees is passing quickly -- my oldest has nearly outgrown the need for me to even
bend over to look her in the eye. But I know I will never outgrow the need to be on my
knees on prayer, a child of God, reaching up to take the hand of her heavenly Father. |