Lessons Learned from a Little Engine

Or, God Really Meets Us Where We Are

A few months ago we had to renew The Little Engine That Could, by Watty Piper three times.  It has been 2 months since we returned it, and still, Lizzie quotes from it:  "Chug, chug, chug. Puff, puff, puff.  Ding-dong, ding-dong."  She read it to the dog.  She read it to her baby doll.  She read it to herself if no one would sit still for her to read it.  And she requested it every time I sat down to read her a book. 

If you think this is about the Little Blue Engine, who says, "I think I can..." and pulls the little train over the mountain for the good boys and girls on the other side, then you will have to keep reading, because it's not. 

I had just come out of my 4-month-long first trimester (yes, my first trimester was 4 months long... or at least felt that way), in which I was run down, miserable, and mildly depressed.  Then came February, in which some energy returned.  Sam was working, I was getting back in the swing of living again, and the weather was getting slightly warmer.  Things were looking up.  But I wasn't.

The fact is, I was struggling to get out of bed, to make meals, to have patience, to get--let alone keep--the house in order, and to just function.  Quiet time? Prayer? What were those?

Thus the only way for God to get my attention was through what I was doing every day: Reading picture books.  Every day--sometimes multiple times a day--I read The Little Engine That Could.

I think there are two kinds of women in the world.  The kind who over-commit and run themselves ragged trying to do a million things because they said they would; and the kind who are terrified of over-committing and rarely volunteer their time or resources, for fear of running themselves ragged.  I am typically the latter.  My first response is not usually, "I think I can." 

Enter the Old, Tired Engine.

I wish I could find a picture of the Old, Tired Engine on Google Images, because it is a very pathetic looking engine.  All the dolls and toys become so disappointed after asking the Old, Tired Engine to help them.  But the Old, Tired Engine explains, "I cannot; I am too tired.  I must rest my weary wheels," then he chugs slowly past them to the roundhouse (where engines go when they are not busy) with this refrain:

"I cannot.  I cannot."

Finally on a Sunday this spring our pastor spoke on repentance and refreshing.  My spirit was stirred, though I wasn't able to put it into words.  I just knew a shift had occurred in my heart.  Then shortly after I finally felt the words of the silly story pierce my exhaustion and prod my heart.  Why do I say that I cannot?  What is keeping me from doing what is before me to do?  What keeps me from helping?  From blessing?  From at least being kind?

Nothing, honestly.  Only a lie that kept me saying, "I cannot." 

I am not bounding out of bed every morning, of course.  Some days go better than others.  But I have hope that I can do the things that are in my heart to do--that God has placed me where I am to be a blessing.  I am not saved and redeemed and blessed in order to preserve myself.  Indeed, it is not by my works that I am saved, nor by my rest that I am preserved, but I am appointed and "created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." Eph 2:8-10

Even when that simply means reading picture book after picture book, and preparing and cleaning up meal after meal.  The truth of it is, I can.

I'm linking up with the girls from Soli Deo Gloria today. :)