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Lessons from a 2-year-old

A few months ago my wife and I gave our 2-year-old, Wesley Grant, a batman pajama set. It was kinda one of those bedtime bribes that parents sometimes have to do for their kids. “Hey, you can wear this if you go to bed…” Well, make a mental note: never give a child, especially one who doesn’t fully understand the laws of gravity, and who actually deliberately ignores the laws of gravity, a pajama set that glorifies superhuman capabilities. So my 2-year-old decides to test his superhuman abilities – flight, no less, and attempts to jump off the couch. Instead of soaring around the room and landing on his feet like all action heroes do, he planted his forehead squarely in the middle of the edge of the coffee table.

Bad deal. Big gash. Lots of blood.

Of course I was away at a meeting, and so by the time I got home it was a madhouse. My wife had called the paramedics, who arrived about 2 minutes after I did.

So we went to the hospital and waited. Then they took us to a back room and a doctor came in and looked at Wesley Grant’s head wound. “Yep, it’s gonna need about 6 stitches.” She told us that she’d be back with a “papoose” in about 15 minutes to get started on the stitches.

So I got this mental image of this “papoose” with like a dainty mother walking through a wheat field with this soft cloth “papoose”, gently swaddling her giggling child in her arms.

Nope, wrong papoose. They came in about 15 minutes later with the “real” papoose. A 4 ft. long 2x4 with about 14 layers of large, heavy-duty Velcro straps. They strapped my superhero, head-wound boy into this “thing” that could only be explained as a restraining device for escaped convicts, and wrapped him up like a tight burrito. He was stuck, even though it took 4 of us to hold him down after he was strapped in.

And as he was completely and totally immobilized, wounded, scared, struggling and crying, and all he could say was, “Daddy, help!” “Daddy, help!” “Daddy, help!”

All he could do was urgently plead for his father to do something. His toys didn’t matter. His food didn’t matter. His stuff didn’t matter. This child’s only recourse was that his father would do something. And let me tell you something as a father – if it was in my plan and for his good, I would have moved heaven and earth to answer his urgent plea. His urgency alone would have moved my heart to raise up and answer his plea.

Luke 10:2 - “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few, therefore beseech (ask, pray, implore, urgently plead, beg) the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest.” Urgently plead for your Heavenly Father to do something.

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