January 17, 2012
There’s a form hidden away in my closet. I go to it from time-to-time, when I need help remembering. I don’t understand what all the numbers mean, or why someone took the time to compare my verbal IQ to my performance IQ, but it’s still proof to me of God’s willingness to redeem His children.
When I’m tempted to doubt God’s provision, love, or mercy, I pull out that form and read through it until I get to these words: “Appears relatively weak in acquired knowledge and/or long-term memory… Suspect reading disorder along with mild to moderate performance anxiety.”
I remember the day I took that test, and all the ones before and after. I remember the red brick building and the metal railing that lead to the second floor. I remember the tall table and disproportioned chair that forced my elbows to sit level with my ears–making me look like an eight-year-old positioned for flight.
Don’t be nervous. Just do your best.
The twenty-six-year-old piece of paper helps me remember God’s love for me, the gifts He’s given me, and His ability to overcome the trials of this world. Sometimes, I forget (in the busy moments between piles of laundry and child-rearing) that God has his eye on me, that He holds me in His hands, that He’s redeemed me and promises to do the same for my children.
“If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (Luke 11:13)
Saying: Father, I long for my struggling children to be filled with your Spirit. Please, forgive me for pointing them to their need for improvement instead of their desperate need for grace. God, remind me of my constant need for mercy and your willingness to overcome my shortcomings. You are able, Father. Please grant me the patience and willingness to wait on you while you make my children more like your Son…and less like their mother.