I love my teenager. I really, really love her - I can close my eyes and picture her as an infant in my arms as I regularly rocked her to sleep. I remember the thrill of watching her stand for the first time and toddle across the airport into Scott's arms when we moved back to the Midwest from Connecticut.
The reflection of my relationship with my Heavenly Father is suddenly shifts into focus. How often do I give Him the crumbs of ‘my best’ whether it’s a rushed prayer or a quick pass through scripture with my right hand while scribbling my ‘to do’ list with my left?
It is clear that my attitude is not one of obedience or submission. Some days (most days) I want my way with little (or no) interference.