Tip of My Iceberg

Some things are never meant to be.

Eating nails to correct an iron deficiency.

Allowing kids to play in the toilet.

Building a house near a sink hole.

Trying to make a boa constrictor a pet.

Logical conclusions. Obvious observations.

Other things may not seem so obvious.

With infants, new toys need to be sterilized. Cleaned of all the stuff collected in manufacturing.

New mom Melody is fastidious about cleaning things for Sloane. Cautious.

When she was given toys for the tot, she did what seemed logical.

She sterilized them. In a special gizmo.

In the microwave. For six minutes.

They were plastic.

At minute four a foul odor was coming from the kitchen. Smoke followed.

What had been colorful developmental toys were now burned as if a laser had gone through them.

Plastic doesn’t belong in microwaves. No matter what gizmo they’re in. They melt into odd shapes, like the old time Shrinky Dinks.

The stench of burnt plastic is insidious. It’s an odor that clings to things like white clings to bread. The gizmo smelled of it. The house smelled of it. Candles burning all afternoon barely touched it.

The melted holes in the toys were free-form fire destruction.

Clearly unusable.

But clean. Sanitized.

Melody was well-intentioned with her attempts at providing a clean and healthy environment for her daughter. She wants to protect her from unnecessary germs that can undermine her health and growth.

Such great intentions are lost on Sloane. She doesn’t understand things can hurt her. A little naive. At two months, that’s appropriate.

Our daughter Tiffany came to visit with her husband and daughter. Brooklyn is a good six months older than Sloane. And as much as her mom tries to keep her healthy and free from harm, she nonchalantly sticks things in her mouth, processing what things are or worth eating by taste and texture.

She tried to taste Sloane, but the little one wasn’t having any of that.

Both moms are being genuinely careful with the raising of their daughters. Both are aware of what can go wrong and are vigilant to keep harmful things out of their reach.

It doesn’t always work. Little ones aren’t known for listening if it doesn’t suit them.

Great intentions don’t always result in great results.

I live life with great intentions. Great plans based on my own great perspective.

Doesn’t always work. I don’t know it all.

That doesn’t keep me from acting like I do.

God responds to me with the same gentle love and desire to protect me as my girls do with their daughters. Much like Sloane and Brooklyn, listening to the voice of reason isn’t my natural tendency.

If I’m hearing something I don’t want to hear, I won’t want to do it.

God never tires in telling us He’s there for us. Loving us with a lavishness we can’t even begin to grasp.

Our world isn’t sterilized and safe. It’s messy and complicated.

Listening to the One who holds life in His hands? Who knows me better than I know myself?

That’s a great plan. Eternally safe.