Today Peyton was standing at my little end table. She was trying as hard as she could. Reaching as far as her little arms would go. Standing as tall as her little body would stretch even to the tip toes. She wanted to get the things on the table. The phone. The book. The remote. Whatever that was there she wanted it.
I did move several of those things out of her reach.
The table was too high for her to get down and she could not get to anything she wanted, so she began to fuss.
I held out my hand to offer her assistance. Offering her a safe way down. I would help her get down from where she was. I held it out there and called to her. She looked at my hand and looked back the table. She reached out and touched my hand, but quickly took it back and put it on the table.
She would not give up her quest for those things in front of her. She would not let me help her even though she continued to fuss. She would not give up. She would not take her eyes off of those things in front of her.
While I was sitting there with my hand outstretched I began to think about my relationship with God.
How often has He moved those things I should not touch out of my reach, but I continue to stand on my tip toes and reach out to get them? How often has He stretched out His hand to offer a safe landing before I fell? How often has He called to me and I looked his way and then put my eyes back on the things I want?
Eventually I just had to grab her and sit her down. Sometimes I think God has to do that to us. He has to grab us and put us where we need to be. It may not be where we want to be at the time, but it is where we need to be.