Baby Steps

I’m watching my one-year-of-age (did you like that? If you don’t know what I mean, see my random post a few days ago “Fine Wine, Rotten Milk and Other Random Thoughts”) totter around the dining room, passey in mouth, pen in hand, talking to herself. She’s become quite proficient at walking. She still falls, a lot, actually. But she immediately gets up and keeps on going. Falls, gets up. Falls, gets up. She is so good at it that I hardly make mention when she does fall. (In the beginning when she would fall, I would actually cheer as if it was a good thing, to keep her from crying and not give up. Weird, but it worked.)

And of course, thinker that I am, I couldn’t just let the innocence of a toddler walking be just that; I had to think about it. What came to mind was the question of whether I was as tenacious as my daughter in my own spiritual walk. After each fall, do I pick myself back up and keep trucking? Do I pay any mind to the fact that I fell? Do I realize that my Parent is my biggest fan, my greatest advocate and is cheering me on, no matter how many times I fall?

Push back here if I’m off base, but isn’t it most times, we think He’s mad at us when we fall? That He rolls His eyes as if to say, “Again?!?” No friends. As I watch my babe confidently teeter around the house, I am so proud of how she continually tries and doesn’t give up. I see how much she has grown and how much her walking has improved. I don’t keep track of how many times she’s fallen. And friend, I really don’t think God’s keeping track of how many times you’ve fallen either. Does He know just because He’s omniscient? Yes. Does He count them on His ticker board? Nope. Does He count each success? I believe He does. He’s one proud Poppa. And He’s proud of you.

He’s proud of you.