A lesson learned from Toy Story

Andy stopped by Bonnie's on his way to college to give her his most prized toys.   Woody, Buzz, and the rest of the gang deserved a loving new home where Andy was sure they would be played with with the best of care.  At one time they had been his best friends.



We had watched the first two of them for the umpteenth time and were finishing up number 3.  As I sat with my babies, sobbing my eyes out over a dang cartoon, I was seeing a whole new meaning behind the story.  It was making 'real life' sense to me.  One day I would have an Andy and a Bonnie.  And my Andy would grow up and move to college.  Never needing those blasted toys again.  The ones I pick up 79 times a day.  Those guns that are full of sand.  Those trucks and bulldozers and backhoes.  Those legos that I know could inflict more pain than a stab wound when stepped on barefoot.   My little Bonnie will grow up too.  She won't be wanting those baby dolls and all their accessories.  Those books and  piles of 'business' stacked every where. Those bags of all kinds packed full of God only knows what all.  The ones we take to the ball park, the grocery store, school, the trampoline and the sandbox.  The ones we have a complete meltdown over if we leave behind even one. 



All of those things that on most days make me want to pull my hair out and run screaming through the streets.  Those quirky little things that make them who they are.  The parts of them that make them unique.  Those are the things that make them little---just how I like it.



I find myself so often huffing and puffing over the bags.  All the bags.  Calling her a bag lady.  Complaining about how she's such a hoarder.  Wondering who in the world will ever be able to live with her.  Rolling my eyes and laughing as she packs another plastic bag full of sand, quarters, and lipstick.



Complaining that he's 5 {very near 6!} and still wants his blanket to go. every. where. we. go.
Arguing that he doesn't need to take the bulldozer and backhoe to town just to run errands. 



Why do I care?  When something so small makes them so happy?  So secure. When they are delighted to make Mama happy by doing most anything she asks, why then do I hold back?  Why do I make something out of nothing?

Why do we try to change our children?   Why don't we trust that God knew what he was doing when he created them?  Why are we sometimes ashamed of who they are?  They are just exactly who God made them to be!  And who am I to want to change that?  Bags, blankets and all.  They were fearfully and wonderfully made.


Blessings,