Friday, December 2, 2011

Daddy's Little Helper

           Do you remember when you were a kid and it was such a privilege to get to help your mom cook?  Or how about the first time you were left in charge of something or someone?  What an honor!  I can remember the first time I was allowed to cook our family meal.  I was so enthusiastic about it and didn’t want ANY help.  I couldn’t wait for everyone to sit down at the table and eat the meal that I (with a capital I) made.  I remember just five or six short years ago my own daughter begging me to let her do the dishes.  Wow, I think I would actually pass out if I heard that now!

     Last night, my son helped Dad put up some Christmas lights.  When he was invited he was beside himself with joy and couldn’t get out of the door fast enough.  But just a few minutes later he came back in with his tail between his legs.  I asked him why and he was upset that “helping” didn’t mean getting up on the roof.  He got over it and went back outside but not with the same amount of vigor as before.  It got me thinking.
      Do I serve my Father with the exuberance that He deserves?  Do I jump for joy at a chance to serve in whatever way He needs me to be there?  I probably have my tail between my legs sometimes when I don’t get to serve the way “I” had in mind.  What in us as children goes away when we get older?  I wonder if it is the newness of life.  Sometimes things are fun simply because it’s our first experience with them.  If that’s the case, then next time I am called to serve and don’t feel excited, I am going to try to look at whatever it is in a new light.  There IS something new about it, even if it’s just my new attitude while I’m doing it.