like a child asking from a Father

amother

Mon, Sep 12 2011, 1:02 pm

I take out my tehillim
and pour out my heart to Hashem.
I cry, I beg, I daven.
I tell Hashem exactly what I need and why.
Finally, I close my tehillim and hope that Hashem answers my tefilos.

"Mommy, I want to go to Governor's Island now," my four-year-old says.
"They don't open until 10 and now its only eight o'clock," I explain.
"I want to go now and I want to take my bike," he insists.
"How are you going to take it?" I ask.
"I'll ride it down the FDR drive until we get to the ferry," he answers.

My reasoning fell on deaf ears.
There was no convincing my child that he is not riding his tricycle down the FDR drive.
He begged and he cried but the answer stayed the same.
No is no is no.

I walk down the sidewalk, a child at each side.
Without a warning, my two-year-old dashes into the street.
I grab him, put him back on the sidewalk, and reprimand him sternly.
He points across the street at a dog tied in front of a store.
"Dog!" he cries earnestly.
But the answer is no, we will not cross the street to pet the dog.

I take out my tehillim, determined to talk to Hashem
like a child talks to his Father.
"Hashem, I am a foolish child.
I know what I want, and I know that You know what I want.
I'm sure You have Your reasons and You have no obligation to share them with me.
But I am still Your child.
I will cry and beg until I get the answer I want.
I may do foolish things sometimes.
I may not understand that just as its not time for Governor's Island to open,
it's not time for my request to be granted.
I may see nothing wrong with dashing into the street
as I'm not always aware of the consequences of my actions.
I am still Your child.
I will cry and beg and hope that You will give me what I want.
And if You don't, I will still cry because that is what a child does.
But in the end, I will accept Your decision because I have no choice
and You are still my Father."

I close my tehillim and look at my children.
"There is a bike path near the FDR,"
I tell my 4-year-old.
"And we can pet the dogs we see along the way,"
I tell my younger son.

And I silently add to my Father above,
that if the answer is no, I will try to accept it better than my children do.