Rough hewn

It was a rough few hours last night at the Horstman household. After sitting in the rain and wind without an umbrella for over an hour, watching my daughter play soccer, I gently informed her that we couldn't stay for the boys game, but had to head back home (a half hour drive) right away.
I prepared myself. I knew what was coming.
No tears.
No rolling eyes.
No yelling, angry protests.
Just a clenched jaw and a stony silence. My 15 year old was upset and angry.
I tried not to let it change my mood.
Good Game! You played well!...thanks
Do you want a steamer before we leave to warm you up?...sure
As we drove on in silence, I started to question my decision. Maybe we should've stayed...it wasn't that big of a deal...what's another two hours...
Then I heard the voice of Reason reassuring me I'd done the right thing. We needed to be home. The rest of the family needed us home.
I thought of all I'd done the last few days, specifically for her:
drove 15 miles out of my way to pick her up and take her to another town 10 miles the other direction so she could eat a special supper with friends...
waited in that other town while she was with those friends then drove her back home...
got up early to make her favorite muffins for breakfast...
went to the grocery store at 7 a.m. to get drinks she told me she needed for the soccer team...
dropped everything and drove like a maniac to her game after she called me panicking because she didn't have her home game socks...
But, I realized, none of it mattered at that moment. All that mattered to her, right then, was that we didn't stay for the boys game. No amount of gifts, running around, schedule changing, or words of encouragement mattered. Thankfully, Reason kept me from saying any of this. I just drove on, pondering.
I do this to God all the time. ALL THE TIME.
My life is like the best Christmas morning ever! I'm like a kid surrounded with gifts that I asked for and dozens that I didn't dare ask for because they're beyond my wildest expectations. But instead of revelling in the moment, I sit in the middle of my presents, disappointed by the one that is missing from under the tree. I clench me teeth and sit in stony silence wondering Why didn't He give me that? I've asked for years now...faithfully...expectantly...in hope...it's a good thing...why won't He give me that?
As I sat in the van, with one of my greatest "gifts" sitting next to me, I unclenched my jaw and broke the silence with Him. I began to thank God for all He's given me: for all the times I've called on Him in a panic and He's rescued me...for all the trivial things I thought I needed that's He's patiently provided...for all the essentials He gives me every day that I all too often take for granted.
The rest of the night was fine. She got over it (which I knew she would), I kept my cool and didn't make it worse (another gift), and I went to bed thanking Him.

track #11 on the player