This morning it hit me.
I was in the dreaded carpool line and it hit me…like a ton of bricks.
I always knew that carpool line was going to teach me something one day. Something more than patience. Something more than how to multitask. Something more than learning which kids walk home, which kids RAN, and which kids were mean to each other every.single.afternoon.
As I was approaching the school I noticed a daddy & his daughter at the crosswalk. He walked her to the edge & she was just about to skip across when she stopped, quickly turned & gave him a hug & kiss goodbye. He bent down and returned the love. Then off she went. She couldn’t have been older than 7. She was precious.
She walked the long, winding sidewalk up to the school & dad turned around to go back home. By the time I had made it through the line I noticed the little girl. This time she was nearly to the front of the school and she was looking in the direction of where she thought her daddy must be by now. There was only one thing stopping her from seeing him.
It was SO bright. It was shining directly into her little face and you could see her straining to see him against the glare it caused. I looked in the direction of the dad and there he was. I could barely see him standing there, but he was there. I looked back at the little girl and she was still searching. There was almost a look of panic on her face because she couldn’t see him. She didn’t know to shield her eyes. I wanted to call out to her, “he’s there little girl, your daddy is right there.”
As I continued driving, I kept watching. Finally I saw the dad step forward a bit & point towards the cafeteria door. I could no longer see the little girl, but it made me wonder if she had just stopped in her tracks or maybe walked a little slower simply because she had lost sight of her daddy?
That’s when it hit me…you know, that ton of bricks. Man, did they come crashing down.
How many times am I blinded by something?
A certain problem in my life.
That particular thing seems so bright that it is blocking me from seeing my Heavenly Daddy…who is right there. I am so paralyzed by this particular thing in my life that I can’t even think to shield my eyes so that I can see Him.
He’s there. Stepping forward to gently point the way.
He’s there for you, too. The next time the “sun” blinds you…remember that! I don’t think I will soon forget it!!