Evaline watched out the window this afternoon as her siblings played in the yard, and by played, I mean, fought against the biting wind to whip sticks and deflated plastic balls to one another.

Not happening, Evie, sorry babe.

Not one to be deterred, Evie recognized her bare-feet as being the reason that she could not go outside. She climbed down and pulled a new pair of Mary Janes up to the chair.

She managed the first by herself, but then, she struggled.

And struggled.Certain at this point the poor girl must be thinking Seriously, Mama, put down that stupid camera and PUT ON MY SHOE!  I offered to help.

And though she was clearly miserable, my services were declined with a sharp, clear and unmistakable: NO MAMA. 

Until finally, she got it.

And as her reward, her Go-gurt tasted all the sweeter,

standing in her new shoes….

on the wrong feet.

And again, I am amazed at how God works through  my children to teach me.

How often am I that child, thinking I know how to solve my own problems, that I know best and then insisting on doing it by myself. And how often am I prideful when I believe I am triumphant, when things all fall into place just as they had been planned (ahem, by my own plans.)

When the reality is, if I’m struggling so hard to assert my own will, I’m totally missing His. And His is better, always. It may mean, as it was going to all along for Evaline, all of her fighting to put on her shoes for naught, that I won’t get to go outside and play.

It may mean that I don’t get to go and do the things I want to do. But it will only lead to goodness and a purpose, whether I’m fortunate enough to see the finished result or not.

At least I’ll have my shoes on the right feet.