"May I help?" That's a question I hear each day from Wyatt. He wants to stir the pot of noodles that doesn't really need stirring, carry the watering can that's too heavy for him to even lift, and put up all the folded clothes even though that will mean they'll be unfolded and "stuffed" in drawers.
But I don't want to discourage this attitude because one day he'll have the ability to be a real helper! I'm constantly telling him, "You're mommy's BIG helper" and seeking for ways to involve him in everything. Yesterday, I let him try his hand at tearing lettuce for the salad, stuffing his own underwear in the correct drawer, and holding the watering can's second handle to water-in the ant poison.
And now Amelia has decided she wants to help. Eight months old and she's already helping me empty the dryer...and adding a little sweetness to the laundry by chewing on daddy's freshly washed sock.
"Helping" in my household doesn't follow Webster's definition. Instead, it means "doing things more slowly," "doing things twice," or "hindering mommy's attempts to be productive."
Somehow I wonder if this is how God sometimes views my attempts to "help" Him share the gospel and glorify His name. Does He sigh in frustration when I screw up? Roll his eyes heavenward? "Fix" what mistakes I've made as I sleep at night?
I know He could do so much better if He just did everything Himself. It constantly amazes me that He still chooses to use mankind to further His kingdom on earth, that He still chooses to use me.
Perhaps He doesn't want to discourage my helpful attitude because one day, I, too, will mature in Christ and be more useful to Him.