Growing Up

A reach, a stretch,

A crash.

A quest for the cookie jar has ended in spilled milk.
Isn't that interesting?
But there's no use -- well, you know.
Tears are unnecessary because a child is learning.
Next time, the help of higher hands will be sought.

Like the season's first practice,
The stakes, for now, are low.
They will rise, climbing steadily with our age.
Now, it's a broken jar,
But soon it could be a broken home, a broken life, or broken faith.

As mother and child clean up,
Mother hopes the lesson will stick.
She knows that a broom will not always be enough.
She's had her share of broken cookie jars,
So she hopes experience will teach.

But the child is not experience's only pupil --
Mother is learning as well.
Only now, her angle is different.
She now knows the hunger for asked-for help.
"So that's what my parents felt like."

We all know the feeling of parting with friends.
As they go, a resolve to love more comes in,
Along with a vow to be more involved.
What sorrow! if that were the end.
Mercifully, "next time" often comes around with us.

We would be wise to see the pattern in it all.
A merciful God grants us "next times" in this world,
Preparing us for an eternal world to come.

Breaking the cookie jar;

Feeling the pain of wanting to help, but being turned away;

Sorrowing when parting with friends;

All teach us so that we can be wise.
The gifts of understanding and perspective are precious,
And naturally, they come at a price.
Let's not waste them.

We can ask for help.

We can let God help us.

We can learn.

Isn't that beautiful?