BitterSweetLife

I had the realization yesterday that the relationship I have with Aidan mirrors the one I have with God, which was more than a little disconcerting.

Quick snapshot: I make money to feed Aidan, and then I do feed him. I clean him up, pay for his designer urban clothes (the few he needs after his grandmothers are done), and put them on him. I read to him, teach him how to dribble a basketball and make great espresso, write stories about him, sing to him, dance with him, throw him in the air, wrestle him, talk about his favorite inanimate objects as if they had personalities, crack hilarious jokes in one-year-old terms...and, on occasion, spank his little rear, at great personal cost. Oh yeah, and I also made him. Or at the very least, half of him.

And after all this he still defies me, in a casual, hey-why-not? way, multiple times a day--says, "ROOM AWHILE!" and runs off to his bedroom, preferring solitary confinement to making things right with his daddy. Really, the parallels are staggering.

Jesus, I more than appreciate your patience, and more so every day.

[Sidenote: "Quiet times?" Extended prayer? Fasting? These things are all good, and I do them multiple times a day for about ten seconds at a time, but living with children may be the single greatest aid to holiness we have available to us. I encourage you to get some today. And yes, make sure you have a spouse first.]