Today, I was able to help out with a children club in a small village outside of Dragonesti, Romania. We sang songs with the children, taught them a lesson about how not to fear with the Lord on our side, and introduced a craft for the children to make.
It was simple enough; we would cross-stitch a cross that involves very simple threading in and out of a plastic grid in the shape of a cross. It was something that could be finished by an adult in about five minutes, but would occupy a kid for at least twenty. The kids would choose two colors and make one color the outline, and the other the inside color, ultimately creating an original cross bookmark- slash- trinket.
Lydia, one of our contacts, started asking the string color preferences of all the kids and chaos immediately ensued. I was able to focus on one little girl who was a little younger than the majority of the group. I helped her choose a color, and started to set it up for her to thread her cross together. I measured two arm spans of string for her to make it around the perimeter (an extreme overestimation) and then began to thread the needle.
Threading the string through the eye of the needle actually turned out to be the easier part of the craft. There were two very specific things I noticed about this little girl as I helped her with her craft, and by the end I was able to sympathize with her.
As I looked into the eyes of this adorable little angel pulling the needle further and further from the plastic cross I am holding in my hand, I cannot help but notice the look of apprehension and fear in her eyes. She backs up like she is retreating from a nightmare, but all I am doing is guiding her through the craft.
I have a plan to get the thread through the squares in a way that will make a cross she will be proud to show to her family. I can see the big picture of her tiny steps, but every time she pulls the thread completely through the square on the cross-stitch cross, it is like she is backing up from a stranger offering her candy from an unmarked van.
At first I guided every step of the little girl’s movements. I put the needle in her hand and lead it through the sequential square to make the outline of the cross. We would get about a quarter of the perimeter finished when we reached the point where she would confidently pull the needle through the plastic square and the look in her eyes turns to a look of slight disdain. It is the “I got this, why are you trying to guide me when I got this?” look. Then I let her go. I let her choose the square that was on the opposite side of the last square and create a Picasso-esque ball of knotted yarn.
After her reign of plastic square choosing, we look at the mess. I undo the missteps, with her leading the needle, and then we start threading the perimeter again. It happens again. She gets confident, I let her lead, she makes a knot out of the string, we untangle the mess together.
Then I realized, that is my relationship with the Lord. I have times where I am walking in complete obedience with where the Lord wants me to go. I am learning. I am growing. I am being challenged in my faith and succeeding with Christ.
But then I get overconfident. I start to question the validity of the person holding the cross out to me, and retreat. I have pulled my thread as far as I can from the Lord without cutting the string, and recognize the distance. I know the promise of the cross at the opposite end of the string, but my pride doesn’t want to admit that it strayed.
I need the Lord to come into my life and clean up the messes in my life. I finally humbly admit my ungodly status and return like a prodigal son to the cross. And God, being the loving and gracious god that He is, welcomes me back with more acceptance and joy than I can imagine.
He doesn’t fix the mess for me, but He walks with me through the entire growing process, knowing the growth to be had in the trials. The knots and messes become undone and we start again on the path of dependence.
I hope one day the distance won’t occur as frequently as it does now, but for now I am aware and can learn to fight it.
In the end, we finished the craft, and she smiled for the first time when I took this photo of her.
“LORD, I know that people’s lives are not their own; it is not for them to direct their steps.” – Jeremiah 10:23
