I scoff and make an immediate judgement. It's wrong of me and unfair to her. I've said many comments that were dumber than this. Still, I can't let it go. As I watch her explore and then choose between the three large houses that her generous budget can buy her, I see she means it. Girl really does not like white cabinets.
"To the depth of her soul."
After today for just a quick moment, I wish my soul stopped at cabinets. Truth be told, my soul is hurting deeply for the woman who was just told she has 3 different types of cancer in her chest.
My soul longs for the chance, the strength, and the grace to hold his hand once more as his time here narrows. To be physically close enough to yell in his deafened ears, "I love you, Papa." To hear his patented response, "Same to you." Just once more.
My soul is discouraged when I watch her struggle with the anger, the pride, and the stubbornness she unfairly inherited from me, from Eve. Her voice is loud and argues truth; "I know I need to do the right thing. It's just hard!"
It is hard. This life, this world, this struggle. She's 4, but she's right. "It's just hard!"
No, my soul does not stop at cabinets. Surely I would feel less pain if it did. Instead, the layers of my soul have been pierced, and He continues to dig deeper. It is a painful unearthing. He tills and I am like the red Alabama clay I was born on. Difficult, but not impossible.
Why I ask Him? Why must it be so deep?
The answer is odd, but clear. Seeds don't grow on cabinets.
"Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown." ~Matthew 13:8
