A lesson from children

I bought a dozen donuts.

Growing up we had to spend all of Saturday doing our weekly chores. I hated them. It wasn't just the chores, it was that I had to spend my one day off in the week working. I had to go to church on Sunday, I had no choice in that, and it was a church that lasted for hours, sometimes returning in the evening for extra 'activities'. That day was gone, no rest. I spent the next five days doing school and homework and regular daily chores. Those days were gone, no rest. Then Saturday, my one day off, I had to work, no matter how much work I had done during the week. I tried doing my weekly chores on Friday afternoon. but my mother was a control freak who wouldn't allow any deviation from what she wanted. Saturday it was. I detested it.

Now that I have a family of my own, we do our weekly chores on Friday afternoon. They spend Sunday with their Grandparents, or shopping, or whatever else. They spend the next five days in school and doing homework. And on Friday after school they do their weekly chores. Why? Because this gives them a day off. We play games. Sometimes they go to their grandparent's early and spend extra time with them. We read books. We play on the computer. Whatever. It's a relaxing day to refresh and let off steam.

Since we do extra work on Friday, I try to get little extras to reward the children for it. I show it to them. We do the chores. Then I give it to them, usually after dinner. One week it was a dozen donuts. That week, they acted very much like typical children. They whined about the work. They picked on each other and argued. They grumped. They complained. Nothing got done. I had to refuse them the donuts. Then they cried.

I wanted to tear my hair out. I had gone out of my way to get them a special reward. I had looked forward to giving it to them. I had tried to compromise with them. But they had pushed and pushed and misbehaved to a point that I had to deny them.

Then I got that niggling little whisper in the pit of my stomach, "How do you think God feels when His children do the same thing, making it impossible for Him to give the spectacular gifts He has for them?"

My frustration with my children dissapated. I had no right to it. Not after how many countless times I had done that exact same thing to my Creator, the Father of my Soul.

Was that the end of that particular sin in my life? Sadly, no. I am human. I have weaknesses. And it's a good thing I have an Advocate in the Throneroom through Jesus. But I'm aware of it now. And when I catch myself, I turn.