Listen

With thoughtless and impatient hands

We tangle up the plans the Lord hath wrought.

And when we cry in pain, He saith,

"Be quiet, child, while I untie the knot."

--Unknown

"Turn the water off and get out, please."

"I can't! There's water and soap in my eyes! I can't!" Her stomping frustration splattered the shower door.

The falling water and little wet body stood between me and the faucet. "Evie, I have my clothes on and I can't reach the faucet. It's right in front of you. You can do it."

I stood with a towel in one hand and the shower door in the other, and as I watched, her insistence that she couldn't turn off the water intensified.

"I know you can do this. It's really close to your hand. Just move over a little bit. A little bit more. Lift your hand up."

She passed the point of listening to me. Tears had rinsed her eyes of the offending soap, but she didn't notice. Her whole world was unrelenting water and a malicious mother who could make it all go away--but wouldn't.

And then . . . her hand suddenly connected with the lever, and the water was off. I had been right all along. The faucet was within her reach. She could turn it off herself.  I stepped into the shower stall, scooped up my strawberry-scented daughter, rubbed down her dripping hair and body with a well-loved froggy towel, and hugged her close to me.

Even as I participated in this scene, I felt apart from it. I saw it all through different eyes. I am so like Evie. I cry and bluster and fight and amplify problems and sometimes give up, even though God is on the other side of my frustration, eagerly hoping I will listen for the help He is offering me. Hoping I won't give up or tangle up the problem any worse. And just like Evie, I am so unaware of how close the solution is. I don't even realize that it only takes a tiny bit more effort--just a few moments more--to be at peace.