Rummaging through a few things, I found a couple blogs that I never posted… they’ve been drafts lost in the land of the forgetful (that land where I live). This one hit home with me today, because I’ve been faced with trusting God when the messages all around seem mixed. Messages that fire up a mother’s urge to control… and to finagle … maybe just manipulate a little. It’s a mother’s role. Right?!~

Maybe not always.

Maybe only rarely.

February 6, 2012

“Mom?… There’s no milk.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s still some in the frig.”

“Hmmm….,” kid responds while slowly closing the refrigerator with no milk carton in his hand.

This is a kid who likes his mornings to be be the same. Every day begins with a Jethro Bodine-sized bowl of Corn Flakes. Not Rice Krispies (which are fine for dinner occasionally) or Mini-Wheats (a suitable snack) … No – It’s Corn Flakes or nothing. As a caring mother, I don’t like the nothing option. Especially considering the challenging school day about to hit him square in the eyes and the seemingly eternal carpool ride home destined for our future. Nothing like riding home with a kid who more than likely has eaten very little during the day since he doesn’t much care for the school’s lunch options either.

“Sweetheart,” I implore, “there’s still milk. You can use it on your cereal.”

“It’s expired.”

“It is so not expired.”

“Uh.. yes it is. Look…” he pulls the gallon out of the frig.



milk up close

Okey-Doke… Looks good to me.

“Honey … It’s not expired. Today is the 6th.” I then open the milk and perform a quick standards test. I smell it. I swirl it. I pour myself a glass. No chunks. No odor. Tastes great. “Listen, the stamp says ‘Best By’ which means the store should sell it by that date. (Okay, I think that’s what it means … I always try to sound very authoritative when delivering expert advise that I might have made up) … And, by the way, it’s today‘s date – so it’s fine no matter what.”

A sister chimes in at this point, “I’ve already had two glasses. I thought it tasted great.”

“I drank one,” adds a brother.

“Ewww… you’re both going to get sick.” nyahhs a different sister.

“I’M GOING TO GET SICK??!!!!” the two milk drinkers freak almost in unison.

“You’re not going to get sick,” I say trying to calm the brewing hysteria, lifting my cup again and taking a big swig. “Look, I’m drinking it.”

“Just forget about it,” I frustratedly throw back at the kid who is determined to avoid supposedly sour milk. “Don’t eat breakfast. The milk is not going to hurt you. But feel free to not believe me and keep on being stubborn… and have a super long day being hungry.” Concluding my mini-tantrum, I move on to the next task.

Everyone, except Stonewall, finishes their breakfast. They gather their things and we head to school.

After dropping off round one, I return to the milk subject on my way to the expiration-date averse child’s school.

“You know, it’s not so much about the milk not being bad… It’s more about the fact that you didn’t trust me enough to believe me.” I begin. “There aren’t many things that I’m completely sure about in life, but one of them is that I love you. I would never, to the best of my ability, do anything to purposefully harm you.”

“I knew with certainty that drinking the milk would not harm you,” I continue. “But you chose to believe what was written on the carton over trusting me.”

Of course I can’t stop myself at this point because there is one HUGE spiritual lesson staring us both in the face on this one, “I think we often do the same thing with God. We are quick to assess and believe the situations around us rather than rest and trust in Him and the way He leads us. I hope you might think about the milk some day when you’re faced with something that seems right by the ways of the world but counter to what God is telling you. I hope you can remember to trust Him.” Pause. “And me too, Kid. I hope I will remember the milk, too.”

He looked at me. I knew the words were hitting home.

“You could have trusted me this morning with the milk,” I finish with sincerity and love. “I had your best interests in mind.”

The words hit home with both of us.

Thanks for walking the road with me. Here’s hoping we rest in the One who always has our best interests in mind.



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