Dicki began screaming and Mommy frantically rushed in to rescue him! We lived in what we called “Hydes House” then—a house we bought from Mr. Hyde in Dalmeny. Baby Dicky was very little when we lived there so I was three years old. Mommy was very careful with him because they both nearly died when he was born because of her toxemia.

I don’t think he was walking yet, but one day I was mothering him, as usual, and prepared “pepa zup,” a soup that Mennonites made often. I creatively made my own recipe with pepper and water and fed it to Dicky on a spoon while he sat trustingly at the bottom of the staircase. Mommy was in the kitchen and could not see what I was doing. That’s when, suddenly, and to my complete surprise, Dicki began screaming! Of course, Mommy rushed in to save him. My tears came next as I had to sit on the couch and eat some of my own cookin’. However, my crying came not so much from pepper burn on my tongue, but that my creative and good intentions ended so very badly.

Besides my very real little brother, I also had two dear imaginary friends—Boeby and Rhonder. One meal time I was making such a fuss about having them sit at the table with me that my Daddy sharply scolded Rhonder. It broke my heart because Rhonder had done nothing to deserve such discipline. That ended my imaginary playmates, though my imagination continued. One supper the meat on my plate looked up at me with the face of a wolf. With many tears, I refused to eat it. Daddy and Mommy could not see what I could see on my plate.

God designed me with an imagination and a determination that still motivates me to bring concept to reality. Yet, how many times throughout my life have I continued to get in trouble for being too creative and too helpful? You’d think having to eat my own cookin’ would have cured me, but we can’t underestimate the power of the will, or the blindness of our good intentions, or the fragility of the human condition.

I still battle the fear of being misunderstood, hurt, or of hurting others. Sometimes I grow weary of the battle of the flesh and long for Jesus to come. I’ve always longed to see Him and already prayed for Him to come and get us when we lived at Hyde’s House. However, along with my vivid imagination, I also felt quite afraid of bears. Mommy told me there were no bears there, so I assured Jesus He could come to get us because there were “no bears in this country.”

Sometimes, even yet, I see “bears” in my life that seem bigger than God. These “bears” can cause me to doubt God’s power, presence, and good intentions toward me. Yet, the prophet Jeremiah tells us that God “does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone” Lam. 3:33. And 2Cor. 1:3 tells us He is the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles.

In her fear, Mommy could not know my intentions, understand my need for relationship, nor have the imagination to see what I could see, but God knows us intimately. His sweet grace does not make us “eat our own cookin’” or become angry with our immaturity. He takes us into His arms, comforts our sorrow for hurting others, knows how much we want to be helpful, and knows our need for relationship. He also sees what is “on our plate” and it’s not scary to Him because He sees beyond our imagination to the joy yet to come.

As I go back to my early memories, recognize God’s presence there, and glean from them, I pray you will enjoy the journey with me and perhaps be reminded of things in your own story that God gave to you for a reason.