I am a dad who is trying to do the best job I can. Some days are better than others. Today was one of those days when I had a, "Oh, ok, I get it" moment.
I was helping Ethan get ready for school while we watched an episode from his favorite cartoon, "Pokémon." If you aren't familiar with Pokémon, there are like a bajillion different characters with a gazillion different attributes, powers, and abilities. I cannot overemphasize this fact: he knows them all. Literally. So while we were watching the show this morning, he wanted to tell me every last little minute detail about the characters highlighted in the program. But it was early and I wasn't in the mood. He wasn't really alert enough yet to frame a coherent thought without infinitely more pauses, "ums" and "uhs" than actual intelligible words. The result was I only heard a fraction of what he was saying. I was looking at him, only half-way listening, and trying to nod and offer verbal cues pretending that I was paying attention. That was when I noticed how totally passionate he was about this moment he was sharing with his dad. I felt guilty and then gave him my undivided attention, although I still cannot tell a Dragonite apart from a Rhyperior.
I felt convicted because I knew I needed to listen. Sharing this moment with me was meaningful to my son, even though it really didn't register in my pre-dawn malaise. He felt it important enough to share something that interests him so much and I was barely paying him a lick of attention. Then it hit me: how often do I, in my prayer time, stammer and stumble through my words while going on and on about things that might seem pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things? Yet God loves me enough to sit and listen to each and every word with His divine ear tuned especially to the cares of my life; cares that might not mean a whole lot to anybody else and pale in comparison to the full purpose God has for me. But God loves the interaction. God loves it when we share what's going on in our lives, and the opportunity to relate to us in a very loving and personal way.
The Bible tells us over and over again that God loves us like a holy parent; but friends, that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. In those moments we as parents might tune our little ones out, get frustrated with stories that go on and on and on and on, and not really try to figure out why things mean so much to our beloved about which we could honestly care less, God is really truly listening and showering us with His presence. God really truly cares about the things we care about. He always pays attention, listens to us intently, and enjoys sharing in the things that make us happy. Shouldn't that change the way we interact with others, especially those we love so dearly?
So I confess that there are times I really don't do that great of a job in listening to Ethan when he's talking about his love of Pokémon. But because I love him, he deserves the best out of me. I know there will be days in the not-too-distant-future when I'll long for these innocent conversations from his childhood. So my prayer today is that I can stop what I'm doing to show my son the attention he deserves, knowing full well that God is always there for me. Like I said, I'm a dad who is trying. May love shape us all after the image of God!
I was helping Ethan get ready for school while we watched an episode from his favorite cartoon, "Pokémon." If you aren't familiar with Pokémon, there are like a bajillion different characters with a gazillion different attributes, powers, and abilities. I cannot overemphasize this fact: he knows them all. Literally. So while we were watching the show this morning, he wanted to tell me every last little minute detail about the characters highlighted in the program. But it was early and I wasn't in the mood. He wasn't really alert enough yet to frame a coherent thought without infinitely more pauses, "ums" and "uhs" than actual intelligible words. The result was I only heard a fraction of what he was saying. I was looking at him, only half-way listening, and trying to nod and offer verbal cues pretending that I was paying attention. That was when I noticed how totally passionate he was about this moment he was sharing with his dad. I felt guilty and then gave him my undivided attention, although I still cannot tell a Dragonite apart from a Rhyperior.
I felt convicted because I knew I needed to listen. Sharing this moment with me was meaningful to my son, even though it really didn't register in my pre-dawn malaise. He felt it important enough to share something that interests him so much and I was barely paying him a lick of attention. Then it hit me: how often do I, in my prayer time, stammer and stumble through my words while going on and on about things that might seem pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things? Yet God loves me enough to sit and listen to each and every word with His divine ear tuned especially to the cares of my life; cares that might not mean a whole lot to anybody else and pale in comparison to the full purpose God has for me. But God loves the interaction. God loves it when we share what's going on in our lives, and the opportunity to relate to us in a very loving and personal way.
The Bible tells us over and over again that God loves us like a holy parent; but friends, that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. In those moments we as parents might tune our little ones out, get frustrated with stories that go on and on and on and on, and not really try to figure out why things mean so much to our beloved about which we could honestly care less, God is really truly listening and showering us with His presence. God really truly cares about the things we care about. He always pays attention, listens to us intently, and enjoys sharing in the things that make us happy. Shouldn't that change the way we interact with others, especially those we love so dearly?
So I confess that there are times I really don't do that great of a job in listening to Ethan when he's talking about his love of Pokémon. But because I love him, he deserves the best out of me. I know there will be days in the not-too-distant-future when I'll long for these innocent conversations from his childhood. So my prayer today is that I can stop what I'm doing to show my son the attention he deserves, knowing full well that God is always there for me. Like I said, I'm a dad who is trying. May love shape us all after the image of God!
2 comments:
Wonderful, Mark. Thanks for the reminder.
Wow. This left me with two competing thoughts, and I'm not sure I am sophisticated enough to manage that.
On the one hand, you are right. There are definitely times when I immediately tune out my kids. It usually happens microseconds after the words, "Littlest Pets". Grammatical gripes aside, I truly struggle to listen when this particular subject arises. I totally understand and agree with your point about God's infinite patience with us. This qualifies as one aspect of God I struggle mightily to emulate with little success to show for it. Being more attentive to the myriad weddings, musings, and parties that take place among these little bobble-head animals would almost certainly better reflect my love for them in a way they can understand.
At the same time, I also wonder if there isn't a second lesson here as well. Are there times when, as I prattle on to God asking for help with my job or repeat for the umpteenth time that I wish He would help me with this or that, that God (who I'm sure doesn't ignore or try to tune me out like I do the kids in these cases from time to time) wishes I would take a little more interest in a greater diversity of things or things of greater importance than whatever "Littlest Pet" I am currently obsessing over.
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