"I'm Hungry"

I am married to a word lover. That man loves words like I love chocolate. He's the only person I know that will pick up a dictionary for pleasure reading. It's a bit odd to me, but I love quirky.

The other evening, our two-year-old was having a moment. You know. A two-year-old moment. My husband looked at me, smiled, and calmly said, "Recalcitrant." I nodded, like I knew exaaactly what he was talking about. Because, for all intents and purposes, I did. I have a contextual knowledge of that word, but again, my husband has a way of using all those words that I understand when I'm reading, but certainly don't use in daily life.

I decided to pull out our massive dictionary and look up this little gem of a word:

re-cal-ci-trant adj. Marked by stubborn resistance to and defiance of authority or guidance. See synonymns at unruly.

Yep, sounds like a two-year-old to me.

I was again dealing with said child this morning. After a failed family trip to the eye doctor (he called in with the flu, and they didn't have my cell number--another story for another time), we went to the playground near the middle school to enjoy the fleeting sunshine by playing on the swings--his favorite. It was sunny, but cold. Really cold.

After 45 minutes, I was ready to go. He was not. But, I really think he was. He was hungry, and his hands were cold, and his nose was runny. Then again, the leaves were pretty, and the puddles were fun to splash in, and it was sunny, for heavens sake! He kept saying over and over, "I hungy." But when I offered to feed him, he ran the other way. I had exactly what he needed; since he couldn't see it in my hand, he didn't want to follow me to where I could fulfill this basic need.

Recalcitrant.

As I sat swinging, watching him run through the piles of leaves, I thought about my own recalcitrance. I know that my Heavenly Father can fulfill my basic needs. He even knows what my needs are before I know them, and has a plan to meet them daily. But I get stubborn, and want to do it my way. I want to run through the leaves, even as I cry out, "I'm hungry!"

He knows how to feed me, and I won't let Him.

I didn't give up on my stubborn little one. We tooks turns finding and picking up leaves, meandering our way in the general direction of the car. Then we raced, splashing through small puddles and laughing as I gently, carefully steered him in the necessary direction. Eventually, we made it. And he even willingly allowed himself to be buckled into his carseat.

I think our Heavenly Father is there with me, too. Gently guiding, carefully leading me where I need to be so I can be filled with what I need to sustain myself every day. I know He doesn't give up on me.

Even though I'm one heck of a recalcitrant gal.