Disappointments

I watched my son, Jack, for quite a while today.

I was folding laundry in our family room and he was playing a Wii game in our playroom.

I folded. Sipped my iced tea. Took a gander over at him. Folded and sipped some more.

My camera was sitting on the table next to me, so I snapped a few shots of him doing what he always does when he gets home from school - unwind with a favorite video game.

As I snapped, within an instant, he dropped his controller, and buried his hands in his palms. And, just began sobbing.

He'd lost. Again.

I set the laundry aside and went to comfort him and sat and talked with him for a few minutes.

It's just a game, Jack. I know you're disappointed, It's okay, bud.

He explained to me the ins and outs of the "world" he was on - what he wasn't doing right, that he kept messing up, and that it was just too hard for him.

It's not fair. I can't do it, Mom.

Yes, buddy - you can. Just give it some time. You'll get it.

When this picture popped onto my computer screen tonight, I relived our conversation this afternoon.

It broke my heart. My precious little boy - utterly brokenhearted over something so silly. So unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

But.

Something so real, so immediately pressing, so terribly important. To him.

And, God - with a single photo - knocked me off of my feet.

Sarah - you do this.

Oh, I knew. I knew what was coming.

See that little boy there?

He's you.

You plant your face in your palms and cry out in frustration, too. Over silly circumstances and challenges that are so insignificant in My grand plan for your life. These things - they seem of such significance and importance to you now, but I see your world and life so differently - with eyes of understanding and with an eternal perspective.

I could list them. The personal ways in which I'm so childlike. Face palming and crying out, "It's not fair."

But, I imagine we all have our own lists - our own areas of taking today's disappointments and let-downs, however silly or fleeting - and allowing them to reduce our perspective to that of a child.

This photo of my little Jack - his hands soaked with tears, his face hot with frustration - is a tangible, present reminder to me that just as I looked upon my heartbroken boy from our family room, God looks on me with compassion and love when I don't understand.

When I'm disappointed.

When I face failure.

But that even more than that, He sees me, my future, and His grand plan for my life with eyes that are so much wiser than mine.