Little (Unnecessary) Helpers

Anabel (2 years old) sat on the counter next to me while I made beef stew this morning. When I measured a tsp. of salt and poured it in, she yelled, "No! Me!" She wanted to help. So I measured one tbsp. dried parsley and gave her the spoon.  I made sure to hold it over the pot when I handed it to her, and I kept close lest she pour parsley all over the stove, onto herself or ate it.  She put on a very serious face, and though I joke about her clumsiness, she proceeded very slowly and got it all in pretty much by herself. We did the same thing with the oregano, and I enjoyed her participation, the closeness between us, and her great effort.

I was struck by her seriousness, her desire to join me and how she seemed to really think that she was playing a crucial role. And in a way, I played along. I thanked her after each spice and commented on how she'd gotten it all in.

And then it hit me: How deluded am I to ever think that I am helping God? Creator and Master of the universe, who with a word calls into existence that which did not exist.  He who can raise the dead and multiply food, does he need me to assist in any of his work? Clearly not. Yet I walk around deceived by how necessary I think I am, how indispensable to the healing, educating, correcting, etc. of the world.  Not only do I walk with pride in my essentialness, I walk in worry and fatigue by the weight of the tasks in front of me.  If I don't do this or that, who will? How often have I thought, "I better not get sick this week!"? And sadly, if I'm really honest here, I've found myself more important than others thinking I can do things that others can't or I can do them better. The common, "You better let me handle this" or the uglier, "Just let me do it!"

Now let me stop for a second and tell you that I've always hated the idea that since God has everything in his hands and he's in control, we can just rest and dream of eternity. I've been truly saddened by folks who continue in broken relationships, doing very little to break unhealthy patterns, but boasting on how much they pray about it and how great their faith is that God will do it. No, I believe in working hard for a better world, whether by reading some Brené Brown or John Gottman, being educated and mindful of the suffering in the world, and of course, recycling.

But today, as I pictured myself sitting on God's counter, watching him make the delicious stew of healing, restoring and cultivation, I realized this: any work that I do, that he let's me take part in, is the sweet invitation of the Father letting his child come close, participate with him, and learn to hold spoons a little more steadily.  So often I miss this!  Most of the time I think I work alone, tired and bitter at others that I don't see working (please hear the "I don't see," not that they are not). I miss out on the excitement of joining God who is making something much more beautiful than I can imagine.  All I see is a teaspoon of oregano or parsley here or there and he sees a delicious stew simmering until dinner.

Regularly, I walk around exhausted thinking that I have to be in control and work so hard because I'm the one making things happen. This is as silly as Anabel thinking that she's making the whole stew.  Imagine the mess she would make if I let her attempt a meal on her own! How ridiculous is that idea! And yet I think that's what I'm doing on a grander scale all the time. I put on myself the weight of my children's physical and emotional wellbeing, my husband's happiness, my extended family's unity, my friends' comfort, and so on. When really, all I can help with is a teaspoon of this or that here and there, and even then, with lots of guidance and help, which I often fail to see. And that tiny amount of help that I contribute is really no help at all because if he really wanted something done, with a word it would happen and it would be better.

But he does invite. He plans for my participation. He remains close and guides my work even when I don't recognize him.  Any good that I manage to do in the world, he smiles like a proud Daddy and rejoices in the fact that it's changing and molding me more than anyone else.