When does doing things all by yourself stop being so much fun?
Yesterday, Brynn, Erick, and I went to work on my new room at school. Aunt Iris is right next door and was there working too. I gave Brynn something to take to her, and she said, "No, Mommy, you stay here," when I went to follow her. Same thing when we were getting ready to leave, and I said we needed to tell her bye. "No, Mommy, I go aaaaall by myself."
She doesn't want me to hold her hand going down steps, she is trying her darnedest to figure out how to get her clothes on without me, and doesn't like when I put her toys in the wrong place. "I do it, Mommy!"
I like having help, though I don't always know what kind of help I need. When faced with tough decisions, I go through everyone I think I might can talk to. Someone else to make the decision for me. I ask God, but He usually doesn't answer quickly enough for me, so essentially I say, "No, God. I do it aaaalll by myself." But that's no good either.
What ultimately happens when I have to make some sort of decision like this is that I can't do it myself, so I just waste time crying and throwing up until I'm ready to listen. When I look back, I realize it's wasn't too bad and promise next time I'll be more trusting. (Yeah, right; I can almost hear God smirking. It's not in scripture, but I assure you he smirks.)
The other day I turned around to see that Brynn had rolled down (2) steps and was crying not because she was hurt, but saying, "My baby fell down!" referring to her baby doll she was holding. I told her, "Mine did too! Are you okay? Let me help you up this time." I guess this is like what God does with me. I demand to walk up hard steps on my own, which means sometimes I'm going to fall. Thankfully, He'll always come back to pick me up and dust me off and get me where I need to go. That's enough blessing to count for my last couple of days.
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