Pointing the Finger

We were on our way out the door, and the boys had received authorization and clearance to go into the garage, climb into the van, get in their carseats, and put on seatbelts.

(This is a very accomplished process for them, and it also allows me the last few minutes of solitude to get myself out the door.)

Suddenly, I heard wailing from the garage - the kind the makes me snap to attention. As I quickly gathered by deductive reasoning (since explanations were sparce), the kitchen door closed behind Tyler, nudging him down the two steps more quickly than he'd planned. No injuries, no smashed fingers, no skinned knees, but two very unhappy boys.

Unhappy with me. Really, a better word is angry.

Tyler cried, so tearfully and passionately, "You closed the door on me!"

And Tucker, ever the faithful protector when it is convenient for his cause, accused, "Mommy, you hurt my brother!!"

Okay, no, I didn't. And no, I didn't.

I was far from the door when it came closing, and while that may be in part their point because I didn't stop it from happening, I most certainly did not allow it with intent.

They were angry. Everything stopped while I clarified, under no uncertain terms, that I will never, ever hurt my children or let anything happen to them on purpose. Understand? Everyone?

Repeat it back to me. Clarity is of great importance, gentlemen.

We gathered ourselves, finally accomplished the task of the seatbelts, and headed on our way.

But the scene stayed with me, as I realized how very often I have let that play out with God, in very similar terms. Something comes crashing down on me, shatters nearby, or even gently nudges me faster than I wanted to go. And with whom do I place my blame?

God! Why did you let that happen? Why did you do that to me?? Where were you??

Of course the parallels have limits; God is omnipotent and omnipresent, and I am assuredly not. Even still, there are things that happen - not because he wishes them to, and certainly not because he wasn't paying attention, but merely because they happen.

Because things happen.

Doors slam, knees are skinned, dreams are delayed, hearts ache.

But maybe it's not really his fault at all.