marshmallow theology

You know, it is very hard to blog when your computer is in the basement, unplugged and unusable. We’ve been having the house painted, and the floors redone, so, for those few out there who actually read my blog, I apologize for the delay.

Two days ago, Carrie (5 yrs) and William (3 yrs) were playing, and Carrie was being quite mean to her little brother. A great deal of ordering about and shouting of “No, William!” was accompanied by his sad whining, and in frustration, we sent them both to their rooms — William crying.

We decided that he was not at fault, and it was decided he should get a treat — marshmallows. He loves marshmallows.

“William,” we called out, repeatedly.

He didn’t hear us because he was carrying on so loudly.

When I get upset, sometimes I start whining, crying out, and complaining to God. That day I started thinking — He knows my pain, He knows about the injustices I occasionally suffer. Could I be carrying on so much that I can’t hear Him calling out my name, waiting lovingly to give me marshmallows?

I think I had better quit whining and listen.

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