The gate

For months our kitchen has been under siege. Completely defenseless, it is continually plundered by two little hands that seem to live to explore every drawer, pull items from the back of every cupboard, and then thoroughly distribute her spoils throughout the entire house. Well, after months of reorganizing, repacking and collecting our kitchen items from the farthest reaches of our home every day, we had an epiphany.

We put up a gate.

Now our one-year-old explorer has her run of the large living room and dining room, but a gate separates her from the vast wonders of the kitchen.

This morning Chris and I were making breakfast when she toddled in and realized that we were in the kitchen...and she was not. First, the gate rattling began. She shook and shook, but the gate didn't open. Within seconds, she changed tactics. Standing on the far side of the gate, she began to cry, which soon escalated to a full-blown fit. Within 30 seconds, she was sitting on the floor, wailing and screaming, throwing herself down until her forehead was on the tiles every time she thought we were looking her way (only to pop back up and get poised to do it all over again the next time we looked in her direction). Ali has mastered the art of throwing fits, and oh can she do it well!

Hoping to turn it into a learning opportunity, I explained to her that if she could stop crying and ask nicely, she could come join us in the kitchen for a little while before breakfast. She couldn't. In fact, she didn't even attempt it.  In response to my offer, a new shrill wail left her small body as she pitifully threw herself face down on the floor. Chris and I hid our smiles and laughter, finding her exaggerated protest absolutely adorable and charming, yet knowing it wouldn't always be so, and thus needed correcting (not encouraging!) now. Watching her lay crumpled over on the floor, I suddenly turned to Chris and said, "The funny thing is, she's so focused on where she isn't, that she doesn't even realize where she is."

Motorized trikes, singing toys, dolls, stuffed animals, pop-up penguins, and her beloved gator xylophone were all sitting just feet away and totally accessible. There was an intertwined mess of cords behind the table (which is one of her favorite no-no's), just waiting to be pulled. And yet, she could not appreciate it, did not even acknowledge it, as she was focused on one thing and one thing only: she was not in the kitchen.

A disturbing whisper filled my mind: How often are we the same way? I live in a beautiful home that is peaceful and more than enough for our needs, and yet I look at it and see the bathrooms that haven't been remodeled, the pictures that haven't been hung, the interior doors that haven't been replaced. We have food on our table and plenty of clothes in our closet, and yet it's tempting to look at others and long for their fashion, their vehicles, their vacations, their bank accounts. I have a husband who loves me and thinks I'm beautiful, but I look in the mirror and see someone who doesn't look like the women in the magazines and on television, and I feel dissatisfied with my appearance. I am working daily on becoming the woman God has called me to be, and while I'm thankfully not where I started, I get overwhelmed and paralyzed sometimes by seeing how far I still have to go. I have written six books that I know have touched hearts, and yet, I sit in church and I wish I was one of the girls on the worship team, or perhaps a dynamic speaker who could take a Biblical principle shrouded in mystery and unveil it so others could encounter a living God through it and apply it to their own lives, while being entertaining to boot! Oh how often I focus so much on where I'm not, that I don't even realize where I am -- the wonderful, beautiful mess of my today that screams of the blessing and favor of the LORD! And I know I'm not alone!

Where I am right now, today, is not perfect. But in the ruckus of my daughter's fit and the quiet moments in my soul after identifying her ironic situation to my husband, I felt the quiet peace of this knowing fill me: Where I am may not be perfect, but it's where I am, and there is purpose in being here. And purpose in me not being on the other side of my gate. And in this place that He has me in for now, I have so much to enjoy, so much to be thankful for, so many wonderful things around me. I'm done focusing on where I'm not. Because when I stop and look around, where I am is actually pretty great!

Finally, Ali's tears subsided. She picked herself up off the ground, looked around and toddled off to play. When she came back into the room a few minutes later, bright-eyed and with a smile, Chris went over and opened the gate, letting her walk in before lifting her up in his arms. Perfectly content, she put her hand on his shoulder and watched as the final preparations for breakfast were made.

Isn't it funny how, when we stop throwing our fit, oftentimes the gate is opened, and we're allowed to come in? We have a good Father who is always teaching us, always enjoying us, always looking ahead doing in us and for us what we need today to allow us to become who He has for us to be tomorrow.