It’s no secret that married couples often disagree. The version where everything is hunky-dory is pure fiction. Mom used to call my dad “Inocencio” because he regularly proclaimed himself to be innocent of wrongdoing. He’d roll his eyes and call her “Perfecta” when she pointed it out.

When you’ve been married a long time, you have to actively work at not falling into bad habits where the other is concerned. Habits like fear, faulty assumptions, and saying foolish things. 

I’m guilty, especially when my spouse does things I don’t like. Consider the following scenario:       

“I need to clean the leaves and limbs off the roof of the shop. It’s a mucky mess up there,” my husband recently announced.

That sounded dangerous. Already, I wasn’t a fan. “That means walking around on the roof.” Objection sneaked into my attempt to appear matter-of-fact. 

“Yes, but I’ll be careful.” He shot me a look. “I’m always careful.”      

I nodded hesitantly, forcing back thoughts of what could go wrong. More for my benefit than his, I echoed, “Yes, you are careful.” 

And that was the end of the conversation. A couple of weeks later, I was working in my office, and something outside snagged my attention. It wasn’t a squirrel skittering around on the shop roof. It was Dave sweeping off leaves, branches, and dirt.   

My breathing hitched. “Please protect him, Lord.” The Lord already knew Part B of that prayer—the part about having mercy on me too, because I don’t want to live without him.

 With a sense of resignation, I stood on the balcony and watched. Then I grabbed my phone and snapped pictures. Then he finished, clambered down the ladder,   and moved to his next task. Just like always. He was so focused, he never saw me and certainly wasn’t hindered by my fear. Later, he enjoyed the pictures. I enjoyed the proof that he was careful.   

I don’t always like the things that God does either. Or what He allows to happen. I’m not happy with the state of our country right now, but the problems aren’t new. Throughout history, there have been other pandemics, natural disasters, and the tendency of governments not to get it right. And people throughout the ages have been perturbed about the way of things. The writer of Ecclesiastes said, “There’s nothing new under the sun.”    

 God told Isaiah, one of his prophets, that “my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways….”

 What? God thinks and does things differently than we do?

Well, we should surely hope that’s the case. After all, this is the Self-Existing One, the Great I Am, the Supreme Being of the Universe.      

So, why should we expect to know and understand the mind of God as if he’s duty-bound to share every last detail? We lose sight of his sovereignty when we disrespectfully demand answers from our Creator.            

When we don’t like the way things are, our response is usually to look for someone to blame. We’re quick to blame God when he doesn’t do what we think he should.

Newsflash: When we do that, we miss the point. 

While we can know and understand the mind of God about some things, there are plenty of areas in our lives where our job is to believe that he exists and trust him. Period.   

Just like I did with my husband on the roof, I’m learning to take mental photos of how it all works out because He has a plan whether I see it or not. 

 He really does have it under control. If I listen instead of reacting, that still small voice says, you can trust Me, I got this. 

And He does. He’s always careful. 

Fifteen years ago, my husband and I moved to Victoria. Before that, we lived in East Texas for twenty-one years. Life was busy as we raised our two children in Tyler, but when they graduated from high school and grew more self-sufficient, we desired to move closer to my parents as my dad was having health issues. We told our young adult children they were welcome to join us. Since Victoria wasn’t their hometown, we insisted they decide for themselves. 

It proved to be a significant move for all of us. First, our son came. He completed college, met the woman of his dreams, and started his own business. Then our daughter joined us, attended nursing school, and met her soon-to-be spouse. They both married here in 2011, and grandchildren started coming. 

After nine years, my daughter and her husband desired an adventure, so they moved to New Braunfels last year in the middle of the pandemic. As it turns out, it was the perfect relocation. The oil business, their bread and butter, had shut down and still isn’t up to speed. But our son-in-law cultivated a real estate business, his backup career, and they are now thriving. Visits are short but loads of fun these days, and my daughter and I regularly do our “Gonzales run,” where each of us drives an hour to exchange children.

Recently, our daughter came to town for our church’s yearly women’s conference. Her three little girls stayed home with daddy. All week long, my husband and I looked forward to her visit. We rarely get her all to ourselves these days.

Once the Friday night portion of the conference was over, she elected to go out with some girlfriends she doesn’t see very often. 

I knew what her dad would do—wait up as long as he could for her to come home. She knows her way around our small city, so we weren’t worried about her safety. 

The next morning my husband told me he’d had a restless night. He said, “I know she’s an adult, married, and takes care of her own family, but when she stays here, I go into Daddy-mode and can’t relax until she’s home.” Our dog barked when she arrived in the wee morning hours, and only then was he able to sleep. 

He’s not the only daddy who waits for his children to come home. Jesus told a story about a son who demanded his inheritance share, then blew through it in record speed with profligate living. But his father longed for his estranged son to come home. When the money was all gone, the son finally came to his senses, made his way home, and “… while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion for him and ran and embraced him …”

Our heavenly Father longs for reconciliation with each of us. He loves and misses us every bit as much as an earthly parent. 

A writing friend put it this way: “The shadows have rolled in, masking the brilliant sunset. As the colors fade and darkness fills the sky, a whisper fills our hearts. Hurry. Let’s run home. Father is waiting…”

Where are you today? Is your heart’s desire to be reunited with your Creator? His heart longs for you. He’s not mad at you or thinking of what you’ve done wrong. In his mind, Jesus has already taken care of that. Let that be in your mind too, as you run to the Father.