Life resembles rush hour traffic sometimes, different people all rushing toward something or someplace. Encased in the vehicle of our lives and focused on the destination we’re trying to reach, we’re aware there are others on the road with us, but only to the degree that keeps us from running into them. The cars all look different, but their functions are primarily the same, carrying us from point A and delivering us to point B.
Not once do our cars expect us to verbally praise or thank them. As long as we put gas in the tank and perform the scheduled maintenance, it will carry us where we want to go. Sometimes people mistake God for a vehicle instead of recognizing Him as a loving Father.
This all came to me one afternoon on the way home. My daughter was with me. I didn’t have an umbrella and it was raining. Dinner was not done and stopping by the store was inevitable. The whole way to the parking lot I hoped there would be a safe spot close to the door. When I pulled in, I saw a car leaving a spot. I waited behind it, put on my blinker and said a quick sincere “thank you” to God for answering my thought before I could even make it a prayer. The rest of the shopping trip was drama free. Not only did my daughter not ask for anything she didn’t need in the store, she didn’t whine one time. The lines were not long and I was in and out of the store during peak hours in less than twenty minutes.
I pushed the shopping cart to my car singing the hook from “thank you” by Mary Mary and my little one sang along. I loaded the groceries, put the cart away then buckled my most precious bundle into her car seat, as she continued to sing. When I checked to make sure everything was secure, she took both of her hands and placed them on the side of my face and said. “Thank you, Mommie.”
Tears welled up in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I’d had a pretty hectic day. My bank account was still the same. It was still raining. But that’s when it hit me—the importance of those two words. I smiled and kissed my baby girl on the cheek and said “my pleasure.”
“You’re welcome” didn’t seem appropriate because it didn’t cover how I felt. She recognized what I did and showed appreciation for it. Taking care of her, providing for her and being the mother God wants me to be to her is a pleasure. Even when she is fussy, gets a bit unruly and is upset because I won’t let her do something, caring for her is my pleasure. In that moment I hoped I made God smile when I said thank you for my parking space and remembered, God feels the same about me.
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article courtesy of TheStreamingFaith.com