Dollhouse

Some days I feel like a little girl with a big dollhouse.

Today was one of them.

This little girl who could get the moon just by looking at her daddy with those big green eyes. Gosh, how he loves her, he is crazy about that little girl. One day, after getting bored with the many other gifts her father has lavished her with, she walks up to her dad and begins to beg him for a dollhouse. “My darling, when you are older.” He tells her. “Trust me, it is bigger than you can handle right now.” But she cried, and begged, and looked at him with those eyes, and he couldn’t resist. She walked into her room one morning and there it was: a brand new dollhouse with a big bow on it. She was so excited. She immediately pulled it down off the bed and started playing with it. But she got a little too restless, as most little girls do, and as she was moving around, she tripped over it and broke it. Devastated, she sat on the floor and cried. She ran back to her daddy’s room and fell at his feet. “Daddy, fix this mess. I broke it. Daddy fix it.”

How often do I find myself at the feet of my Father saying, “Daddy, fix this mess. I have broken what you have given me. I should have listened to you. You said it was more than I could handle. You said trust me and I was selfish. Daddy, fix it.”

I think what is even more heartbreaking than the brokenness of the little girl, is that without fail, every time, he picks that little girl up off her feet…and fixes the mess.