By Khristy Hullett
I went to the grocery store tonight. I usually moan and complain about the chore, but I usually don't mean it. I love having everything put up—a place for everything and everything in its place and all that. My pantry and fridge are full at the moment, just waiting for my family to come along and deplete them. I don't love the laundry, but I love putting the folded clothes in my kids' drawers. I don't love cleaning the house every Thursday, but I love the feeling when I'm done—the house smells clean and fresh, and everything is spic and span. I don't love changing the sheets every Friday, but I love slipping under clean, neat covers on Friday night.
I really don't hate all the chores that having a family entails…okay, maybe I hate unloading the dishwasher, but I reserve the right to have at least one pet hate! The rest of it's just the minutiae that makes up everyday life. However, what's not part of the minutiae, part of the drudgery is the feeling of satisfaction when my kids run across a clean floor, when they pull out freshly laundered clothes, when they climb into a clean tub. It has nothing to do with thanks and compliments. Kids, at least my kids, are generally not jumping up and down to notice the lack of crumbs on the floor or the fact there's no dried toothpaste in the sink. And that's okay—I don't do it for the public thanks. I really don't even care if they notice (although I think they might begin to notice if I neglected things for a couple of weeks!)
I do it because I love them. I do it because I want to take care of them. I do it because they're mine, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Tonight I carried in groceries and put them all away in a silent house—everyone was asleep. Tomorrow my husband will exit the house at 5:15 with his banana and cereal bar and won't think twice about it. Tomorrow my kids will choose between pancakes, waffles, biscuits, or cereal and will have plenty of milk to drink. I have lots of fruit; I have veggies; I have snacks. They won't really notice that the shelves are refilled or that they have clean clothes to put on. They expect me to take care of them.
In the midst of all this shopping and housekeeping, I started thinking about God. He loves us. He takes care of us. We belong to Him, and He wouldn't have it any other way. What great pleasure He must derive when He paves our way, when He provides for our needs, or when He eases our hurts! Can you doubt it? Think of the pleasure you derive from taking care of your family? Could God do any less?
And yet time after time, we neglect to ask Him for anything….we often fail to even talk to Him. We don't want to bother him. We feel insignificant. We are overwhelmed by the thought of the sheer number of his children. How ludicrous! I know two families with a larger than average number of children. The first has six children; the second has nine. Do they love the last child less than the first? Do they forget about the middle one, or the third one or the ninth one? No. And they would be horrified if you even suggested it. Are they willing to ignore the requests of any of their children? No. They're always available, always working for the good of those children. And yet here we stand not wanting to bother God. But don't we break His heart when we refuse to approach Him? When we decide that we're not good enough or He's not big enough to love us all?
God is so much more than we can ever ask or imagine. All we have to do is ask. He stands waiting to be our Father, to lavish upon us the love we lavish upon our children.
Ephesians 3:20 “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine……” (NIV)