Two-yr. old Judah is still obsessed with fuzz. Though he no longer consumes several handfuls of Fuzz debris a day, he is nonetheless inseperable from his beloved blankie. A fuzzy crotched blankie that accompanies a two-yr. old's every journey through the day will inevitably house some pretty unpleasant bedfellows. This morning seemed the perfect time to give the ol' Fuzz a good washing. Playtime and no naps to contend with was my thinking. I even asked him for the blanket, which he gave up willingly. It was off to play with Legos with his brothers. It didn't take him but five minutes before he was downstairs, asking for Fuzz. I explained Fuzz' whereabouts and assured him of how soft and warm the blankie would be in a little while. I offered the "back-up Fuzz" and tried to distract him with happy alternatives...to no avail. He was distressed. For the remainder of the cycle--about 15 minutes--Judah let us know just how distraught he was without his beloved Fuzz. Crying, screaming, wailing, calling out for Fuzz...it was quite pathetic. Because we consider tantrums a discipline issue at our house, Judah and I even had two "talks" in the bathroom during this meltdown. He just could not get over it. Finally the spin cycle was complete, and the machine stopped its rumbling. Judah whimpered yet again, "Fuzz...fuzz." As with most laundry days, Judah followed me to the utility room to unload the wash into the dryer. When Fuzz came into view, damp and less-than-cuddly, Judah quickly snatched it from the abyss of the dryer.
"Don't you want it warm and soft?" I offered. "No. Fuzz. Mmmm...Fuzz," was all he could say. Crying, screaming, wailing, calling out for Fuzz...all ceased, as a teary-eyed smile came across his face. He looked at me fearfully as he gripped tightly to his blankie. I closed the dryer door, and let him revel in his damp, lumpy, wadded Fuzz.
How our hearts get entangled in comforts and securities! It's just a blankie--and most toddlers have one, but I couldn't help thinking about the last time (not so long ago!) that I emotionally threw myself on the floor, kicking and screaming because I couldn't have what I wanted and I didn't understand my Father's timing. How short-sighted and selfish I can be when all I can see is what I think I need, when I think I need it, and how it should be in my life! I'm not much different than little Judah, forfeiting all joy and privilege while writhing in discontentment and distrust. May we, as maturing children of God, respond to the Lord's correction and loving provisions. And may we wait on the Lord, reaping the true joy of His plan and timing, not settling for a damp, lumpy, wadded version of God's best in our lives.
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