A Different Perspective

By Jenny Dendinger

I was lost in lesson planning when my son approached me in tears. I automatically scanned his little body for signs of injury, but all I could find was a defeated look on his face. He crumbled into my arms and sobbed, “Mom, I wasted my money on this game! All of the instructions are in a different language!”

I did my best to comfort him while quickly trying to decipher what had happened. I looked around the room and landed on his bright orange game box and colorful dice spread out on the table. Suddenly, it clicked.

The day before, my husband had taken our son shopping to spend some of his birthday money. He had burst through the door beaming with pride as he showed everyone the new game he bought to add to our collection. Since we didn’t have time to open it right away, we set it aside to play later.

As expected, he woke up eager to give it a try, but he saw that I was busy working. Instead of interrupting me, he attempted to read the instructions on his own.

I squeezed him tight, wiped away his tears and took the paper out of his hands. With gentleness and compassion, I flipped the instructions over and offered him the other side. His regret quickly turned into relief.

As I explained what happened, it made me think – How often do I run to God crying that my life is difficult or damaged or even ruined? And like a loving father, he always wraps me in his arms, listens to my heartache and lets me rest in his strength and love.

Then, when the timing is right, he reveals to me what he’s known all along – the view from the other side.

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