My Sweet P

Presley Love

As with most mornings, Presley’s silky blonde hair was whimsically wild. Her cheeks were warm, chubby, and flushed, framing a toothy grin. Her daring blue eyes were well rested and eager for a new day’s adventures. All of this sat atop a pajama-laden body; soft, cuddly, and oh-so cute.

I sipped my coffee and watched her explore her toy box yet again. Playing with toys is her vocation, a job she excels at. She decided on her dolly’s stroller, a smaller scale of her own. She pulled it from the pile of toys and positioned it in the center of the room. And despite its diminutive dimensions, Presley hoped to sit in it. She then aligned herself for what should have been a direct deposit of her hindquarters into the seat.

It was while she slowly backed up, I noticed the seat of the carriage wasn’t attached and I offered my services by jumping into action. Having saved her from a fall, perhaps some hurt, and even a bit of embarrassment, I fully expected a kiss for Daddy. Yet, when I grabbed the stroller she threw a fit. Not the type of fit you’ve seen displayed by the demon-child in Walmart, but a mere grunt of disapproval that grew in grit the longer I toyed with her toy. She didn’t appreciate my interruption. She didn’t welcome my work. I tried to explain that I was fixing the stroller, but to no avail. Thankfully it was a quick fix and I replaced it to its original position. She continued on, oblivious to her rescue and even frustrated with her rescuer.

In that moment I saw myself in Presley. Of course, she’s far cuter than I am, but I’m referring to my attitude and my reaction at times to my God, my Rescuer. I often throw fits at His interruptions. I demand reasons why He’s taken things from me. I insist that He give back what is mine and question His intentions. All the while, I am oblivious. What has He saved me from for which I’ve never offered thanks? What have I done to deserve His patience, His care, and His love for me? 

I will forever seek to save my daughter from hurt, even at the risk of upsetting her. I see the same zeal in my God for me.

One thought on “My Sweet P

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