In the Way They Should Go
By Tricia Goyer
 “Mom, can I have a snack?” My son’s brown eyes were wide, hopeful. I looked at the clock, calculating the time until dinner.
“Sure, you can have some graham crackers and milk, but not too many. And get some for your brother and sister too.”
“Okay!” He jolted through the doorway.
“Don’t forget to pick up your mess!” I called over the pounding of his feet. “Put your cups in the sink and wipe down the counter when you’re through!”
I could hear the opening of cupboards and the slam of the refrigerator. I pictured crumbs and drops of milk splattering across the countertop, as the sound of chattering children floated into my office. Minutes later, when I heard all three kids put on their shoes and head outside, curiosity got the best of me. Had they followed my orders? As I neared the kitchen, my eyes widened. The cups were in the sink… and only a few crumbs lay on the counter. Had we arrived?
Crunch, crunch, crunch. The floor. It was covered with the crumbs.
“Won’t they ever learn?” I sighed, as I dampened a paper towel and lowered myself onto the tile. The mess was cleaned up just in time to start dinner.
It’s not like I ask too much. I pulled a package of hamburger and an onion from the refrigerator and plopped them onto the counter. I just want them to learn to pick up after themselves. I want them to be prepared for life.
It wasn’t long before the smell of meat and spices filled the air. The children smelled it too. The living room door opened and shut again. The adventurers were ready to refuel.
“Can we watch cartoons until dinner’s ready?” called my daughter, Leslie.
I heard the TV click on.
“Hold it. Not so fast.” I pointed to the door where three jackets and a jumble of dirty shoes were piled. “What is this mess?”
“We forgot,” came the simultaneous reply.
“Please remember to pick up after yourselves, okay?”
All three nodded like they understood, but I was sure they hadn’t–the same conversation was repeated two more times that evening! And, the next morning was no different. I emerged from my morning shower and looked around the living room. Dirty socks on the coffee table. Pajamas on the floor. Toys on the stairs.
I called the children into the living room. As I pointed out the mess, I felt like one of those dolls with the pull strings and the squeaky voice. “Pick up your things. Put them away. Haven’t I told you this before?”
I couldn’t take it any more. I headed to my office, eager for some quiet time. The new day was already overwhelming, and my strength to deal with it, insufficient.
I opened the office door. Construction paper, glue sticks and Legos were scattered across the carpet… my neck tensed, my teeth clenched. I tiptoed through the maze of toys then dropped onto the couch on the verge of tears. “Lord, what am I doing wrong? I tell them over and over again but they don’t listen. I want the best for them, but they insist on doing their own thing.”
I paused for a moment. My chin stopped mid-quiver. Those words sounded so familiar. As I sat there, silent, the words sunk in. Didn’t God say the same things about the Israelites wandering in the desert? And doesn’t he say the same things about me? I thought of his continuous reminders and urgings–my kids weren’t alone in their forgetfulness. Wasn’t it just yesterday I again had to seek God’s forgiveness for my harsh words? Yet, I knew God never gave up. Every day, he met me where I was and gently spoke to my heart.
“God, forgive me,” I whispered. I picked up my Bible, and was just about to read a passage, when the door opened and Leslie walked in. I was about to ask her to leave–I desperately needed to get refocused–when I noticed something in her hand… it was her Bible.
She smiled and two dimples appeared on her cheeks. “I’m going to do my Bible study just like my Mommy does.” Thud. Her words hit my heart and broke my built-up tension into a million pieces.
Without another word, she climbed up beside me, snuggled into the corner and began to read her Bible.
Train up a child in the way she should go? I thought. Is this what God was talking about? Suddenly, the mess on the floor didn’t seem quite as important any more. As my daughter and I read God’s Word side by side, I realized that perhaps my children would be prepared for life.
And perhaps they will pick up what truly matters.
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