My students tease me about this, but I am guilty of looking at all things metaphorically. This is both the English teacher's blessing and curse. It's a curse in that it causes me to WAY over think most things - and, well, nerd alert. But the blessing comes in the sudden, unexpected realization of life *aha* lessons being revealed in such, seemingly, small, ordinary moments.
Take this morning, for example. Nora, my oldest, is a fiercely independent two year old. I wonder where she gets that from. She woke up on a mission to build a house out of her blocks. For Anna and Elsa, of course. When Nora sets her heart on something, she tunes everything else out. She's a determined little gal, and I kinda, sorta love that about her. In the midst of Nora's construction, Finley, my one year old, began toting block after block from the bucket to her sister. "No," Nora defiantly declared. "I build house. Sissy no help!"
In an effort to make sure she was the sole participant in constructing Anna and Elsa's new residence, Nora grabbed the house and began her relocation efforts from one table to another, taller table out of her sister's reach. Here's the clincher. The house was too big for her to move on her own and, in transit, it collapsed.
I couldn't help but think Man, what do I miss out on when I reject help because of pride?
What can we build for the kingdom of God if we accept help from our sisters?