"Daddy, Fix It"

            A small child sits in the middle of the floor. She plays contentedly, her favorite toy in hand. She knows no fear, no anxiety, no stress. She knows nothing other than her perfect life. She is loved and her every need is met.

            Suddenly…disaster…the beloved toy falls apart in her hand. She awkwardly tries to piece it back together, to restore it to its former shape and use. A few minutes of her failed attempts at re-creation result in teary frustration, followed very quickly by anger. The toy is thrown across the room, a reaction to the realization that she is not in control of her no longer perfect little world. She wraps her arms around her legs, buries her face in her knees, and weeps.

            And then a spark of hope ignites in her heart. She retrieves the shattered toy and runs from the room in search of her hero. She finds him, as always, more than willing to take time for her. She stands before him, tears still creeping down her cheeks, “Daddy, can you fix it?” He smiles, pulls her onto his lap and into his embrace, wipes away her tears, and says, “Yes, little one, I can fix it.”

            I walk through life. I am content, happy. I have a family who loves me. I am surrounded by friends. My every need is met. I am comfortable. My world is perfect. And then change comes – I lose someone or something I love, my plans don’t work out the way I had hoped, my life falls apart. My world is no longer perfect. My world is broken.

            I frantically try to piece it back together, to keep the things I love and treasure close to me, to be in control. I hold onto the hope that my perfect life will be restored and everything will be the way it used to be. Eventually the realization that I can’t fix what is broken sinks in and I get angry. I yell and scream and throw things. Eventually I exhaust myself and I curl up in a fetal position and cry. For days, weeks, months I cry.

            And then hope…I run to my hero, but the words that come out are filled with pride. “God, my life doesn’t look like I want it to. I know you can fix it and this is how you should do it.” As if I hadn’t already proven how feeble and destined to fail my attempts to fix things are.

            I want to be the little girl. A mere few minutes from the moment of brokenness to the desperate plea, “Daddy, fix it.” The little girl who has complete confidence that he knows what he is doing and is able to fix what is broken so much better than she herself can, the little girl who places her complete trust in the one who has always proven himself trustworthy. I want to be the little girl who pleads in simple faith, “Daddy, fix it.”

"Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."   Matthew 18:3-4