Perceived Reality

There is nothing like raising a toddler.  She loves to explore all the crevices in our home.  She finds herself in the closets often because there are so many new and neat things she has yet to discover.  No matter how much we have cleaned, she finds all the dropped food in the nooks and crannies of the carpet.  And she will determine for herself if it is worth eating.  Never mind our "No!  Don't eat that!" or "That's icky!"  She has to find out for herself.  

And don't even get me started on bedtime.
Too late.
Sigh

Tonight was like any normal night.  After reading a couple stories and sharing cuddles galore, we walked the green mile.  Holding hands, we walked toward the bedroom.  She looked up at me with those innocent eyes of hers, "Night, Night?".  Asking as if this was the end.  There would be no tomorrow.  "Yes, Baby, night night time."  She climbed up into bed with a heavy sigh.  I sing to her some of my favorite hymns.  In between each one, she had to ask for more hoping to extend the time before she had to enter dream land.  "I want song."  Then we prayed.  Her soft, sweet voice finished the prayer with a sad "Amen".  I give her kisses and hugs and walk out of the room.  Just because her night is over doesn't mean mine is.  
Oh, but her night is far from over.
The moment my foot steps can no longer be heard by her little ears, her little foot steps begin.  I then must turn around, give her squeezes, and send her right back to bed.  "Pray?"  So we talk to Jesus again, asking Him to help her stay in bed.  Then the sucking starts.  Her thumb and forefinger are in her mouth, comforting her, sending her into lala land.  I begin to leave the room.  And she follows right behind.  My little shadow.
Back to bed we go.  Another song, another prayer, shared kisses, and a tight hug.  Then my footsteps followed by hers.  
After about an hour of me and my shadow routine, she finally is completely out.  No little foot steps behind mine.  No more asking for songs.  No more up and downs.  Just peace and quiet.  
I am not sure why she fights her bed time most nights.  Maybe she feels she is going to miss the most exciting, riveting moments of the day by going to bed.  Trust me, nothing exciting or riveting here.  Just papers to grade and a kitchen to clean.  She doesn't know that, though.  She only knows that I am not going to bed with her.  I am staying up.  According to her, I never sleep.  So why does she have to?  
But that is not fact.  That is not reality.  It is only what is imagined.  What is perceived. 

I, too, am like this at times.  Not that I fight bedtime.  But I fight God.  I see things one way, but He knows the reality.  He knows the facts.  He walks with me and shields me from that reality.  He knows I cannot handle the facts.  But He's got it handled.  When I look at it, I only see a small picture.  But when God looks at it, He sees it all.  The past, present, and future.  He knows what is best for me. I know my wants, He knows my needs.  I think I can carry the world on my shoulders, but He knows how much I can handle.   He's got this.  I need to realize He is taking care of me, that He knows what is best for me.  I need to let go and let God.  But I can only do this By God's Amazing Grace.