We’ve been spending much time at the playground these days. It’s a great place. It’s completely covered (to protect from sun), has sand instead of bark or rocks or spongy recycled tire mats, the equipment is decent, and there is plenty of space to run around. David just learned how to do the monkey bars here (he learned by watching a child do it several times, not from our attempts to talk him through the process). The park planners also put a number of comfortable seating along the sides of the park, several of which are completely shaded in the afternoon. It’s been a good place to read and write while the children play.
Yesterday, Laurel started calling to get my attention because she wanted my help going down the fireman pole. It’s possible that I was simply unwilling to get up, and go help. However, I had earlier pushed Laurel on the swing. [I wasn’t being selfishly neglectful]. And I had watched her do it herself with her dad standing nearby a few nights ago [i.e., she’s demonstrated an ability to do it].
It hit me that if I helped her, I’d be taking away from the joy of accomplishment. So I told her that she’d be far happier if she did it herself, but I’d help her if she got stuck. Of course, she did it fine. Then she got stuck and I helped her. Then she got herself stuck and unstuck and had a grand time several more times sliding down on her own.
I wondered then whether God ever looks at me asking for help as a mother and says, “You’ll be much happier if you figure it out yourself. I’ll help you if you get stuck.” Sure he does!
It is the glory of God to conceal a matter,
But the glory of kings is to search out a matter.
Maybe I shouldn’t get so impatient when I ask for help and don’t immediately see the answer in my email inbox. Maybe the search for an answer in Scripture can take months or years, not minutes or hours. I think I’m going to remember this afternoon at the park.