“Buddy, be patient. I’m almost done.” 

More whining. More impatient cries.

“Be patient. Trust me buddy, you wouldn’t want me to give you your lunch right now. It’s not ready. You’re going to want the whole thing.”

The words came out and quickly echoed back in my brain. They stuck to me like the peanut butter I was just beginning to spread across the slice of bread. 

I imagined handing my 18 month old a slab of peanut butter piled high on a slice of bread. Silliness. He may stop crying. He may even end up with his hunger satisfied. But he would miss something better. Not to mention the mess I would have to clean up.

I finished making his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, choosing to ignore the cries and the tiny hands pulling on my shorts. I cut his sandwich into triangles just the way he likes it. I’m his mother. I know things like that. His hunger would now be met in a way that gave him joy with every bite. I saw the finished picture. He just needed to wait.

I now pictured myself as that 18 month old, whining and crying, wanting my desires met on my terms. I stamp my feet and pull at His hands, wondering why He is ignoring me.

But as I look at my little Jack with all the love and pleasure a mother could give, I have a deeper understanding of my Father’s love for me. He just wants to give me something better. He’s not withholding. He’s just completing what He started for me. Something that will truly satisfy. And He’s my Father. He knows exactly what that is. He’s creating something that will give me joy with every bite. 

I just need to wait.