I was running on the trails and passed a young mama pushing a stroller with someone tiny inside. Her daughter, who I’m guessing was three, walked along beside. The little girl sported pink light-up Minnie Mouse shoes and looked at her feet with each step to watch the lights light up. I smiled at the mom, told the little girl, “I like your shoes,” and kept running.
I soon got to my turn around point, circled back, and saw the trio ahead of me. Only this time the girl was not giggling about her shoes. She was screaming and stomping, hands in the air. She ran away from her mom, then back again, her face all scrunched up. Although I couldn’t see it from where I was, and the girl couldn’t either, I knew from experience that not that far around the bend from where the drama played out was an awesome playground.
I’d been that mama before.
Trying to squeeze in some sort of exercise while juggling littles and trying to make it all a fun outing for them. Having one of the kiddos lose it for a reason that mattered very much to them in the moment, but knowing that even if they were bored or hungry or tired or simply preferred to be carried, if they could just make it four more minutes, they would be delighted. They would no longer care about the thing bothering them, because they would be climbing and swinging and sliding and make-believing all kinds of wonderful things.
I’d been that mama.
But how many times have I also been the little girl?
Prancing about delighted about something one moment, only to have a setback–anything from getting a parking ticket to discovering I’m one ingredient short of tonight’s dinner recipe to a book proposal being rejected to being on hold for thirty minutes with the insurance company throw me off on a rant. They all stink–some just more so than others. None of these things are the end of the world. And yet, I gripe. And pout. And everyone in my home hears about it. But why do I get stuck in the yuck? Because Jesus always has more. Better. Waiting just around the bend. I’m always so close to that proverbial playground, even when I can’t see it. I know this because the Bible promises, “surely goodness and love will follow us all the days of our lives” (Psalm 23:6). Not if we do better or try harder or are healed or our relationship is fixed or we contest our ticket or find that ingredient or get that book deal. But surely. Certainly. We don’t have to wait until tomorrow or someday, but ALL the days, including this one now. Jesus has more for you and me.
So we get to choose.
We get to choose if we’ll kick and scream and pout. Or if we’ll take a deep breath. And ask Jesus to help calm us and help us see things through His eyes. Thank Him for who He is and ask Him to help us take that next step forward. Because He knows all about the playground around the bend and can’t wait for us to get there. We can ask Him for courage to continue, endurance to keep going, and peace to wash over us so we're not worried along the way.
He has so much goodness planned for you. That’s why He put you on this path in the first place. You can trust Him.
I don’t know what that looks like for you in the midst of your current mishap, disappointment, challenge, or trial. Jesus might give you the opportunity to try something new and you’ll realize you love it or maybe you’ll meet a new friend or get a better offer or be inspired or learn something important or take a forced break that your body really needed. But I know Jesus promises goodness and love. He has more for you around the corner.
Jesus also promises us a hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11). And He promises to finish the good things that He starts in you like middle of the day strolls to a playground (Philippians 1:6). So wherever you’re frustrated or let down today or downright worried or frightened. Hang in there. Jesus wouldn’t have put you on this path–even if it feels long or steep or hot–without a good reason. He has goodness and love for you, an abundance of it. He has a playground of sorts waiting for you not far around the bend.
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Laura L. Smith