Useless Mittens...

It's been a long, cold winter, y'all. 

I really hate to complain. But seriously, this is what it has come to...

I've been trying to make the best of it,  pull up my big girl flannels and find positive ways to embrace this season of frigidity. But winter has been hard.

I know you've felt it too; particularly so, as the cold and dreary weather has been a direct reflection of the state of our world.

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This is my first blog of the year. It's not that I haven't been writing. Almost daily I sit at my keyboard, clicking out stops and starts of half-formed ponderings and whatnot.

But the darkness of the world keeps breaking through, leaving me speechless, making a mockery of words and inept sentences.

Some days – most days – I just don't know what to do with it.

Just like you guys, I don't know where to put the overwhelming barrage of pain and suffering. Our world is hurting.  Peace is slipping through our fingers.

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Yesterday I bundled up my little G-boys for a walk in the snow. Even though it was a teeth-chattering 28 degrees, they wanted to go feed the deer. (Little boys are silly, that way.)

[It is important to note that my 2-year old G-boy is undeniably the cutest and smartest toddler on the planet. I know some of you may disagree with me and I absolutely respect your right to do so. We shall agree to disagree.]

But even though this little guy of mine is cute and smart and oh-so-precious, make no mistake... he is T-W-O. All caps. Terribly so.

He allowed me to help him with his shoes, simply because he was too fat to bend over in his snowsuit. But when it came to putting on his mittens, he did NOT need ANY help from his MiMi!  He could do 'da glubs' himself!

We trekked stiffly across the yard with our package of corn tortillas, searching for deer tracks while stepping in their droppings. Just about the time the snot in my nose began to form ice crystals, we saw them... an entire family of deer creatures right across the road!!

I tore the tortillas in quarters and handed them to the boys. My 4-year old started hurling pieces of tortilla toward the deer like Frisbees, laughing with glee. In contrast, my 2-year old began stomping his little snow boots and crying, corn tortillas lying at his feet.

“What's the matter, baby?” I asked as I knelt down.

“My thumbs don't work!!! I can't throw!!!”

I looked down at this hands and noticed the thumbs of his mittens were sticking out at odd angles.

“Oh, I see what's wrong... you don't have your thumbs in your mittens. Here, let me help.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I don't WANT you to put my glubs on. I already DID put my glubs on!

Now, listen. There's one thing I know for sure about a 2-year old. You will never win an argument with them when they are upset. 

N-E-V-E-R.

I picked up a tortilla, turned his little hand over and placed it in his dysfunctionally mittened palm.

He stood there a moment, just looking at his hand, looking over at the deer, then back at the tortilla. He watched as his brother kept tossing food towards the skittish deer. And then he did the sweetest little thing...

He reached out his arms, held his hands in offering towards the deer and said, “Come 'mere deer, I'll be your friend!”

He stood like that for a good five minutes, calling to the deer in his sweet baby voice, begging them to be his friend and eat out of his hands.

I don't know how long my little dude would've stood there, just waiting and hoping, because all of a sudden, I let out with a big ol' snot-crystal-blowing sneeze... and the deer scattered like flies.

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There will always be pain and suffering in this world.  More than a lifetime's worth. And sometimes it's hard to hold on to hope, easy to lose faith.

But all it takes is a 2-year old to remind me...

When the darkness is overwhelming and the light is slipping from my hands, I need to lift them high to The One who will straighten out my mittens and make them fit just right. Only then will I be able to use my hands effectively to do their part in healing this broken world...