Broken Toys

There's a desk in our family room with the family calendar, a drawer overflowing with office supplies, the answering machine with its sidekick post-it notepad, and a pile of field trip permission slips and other timely papers. It's the typical unorganized family organizational hub. It's the place we set things that need to be dealt with. And there's one spot on that desk where my daughter Sally sets her broken toys that need fixing -- usually just a craft that needs to be re-glued or a ribbon that needs untangling or a small toy that needs to be put back together. She shows me the toy and then puts it on the desk. She knows that if she puts it there, I will fix it. (Eventually and imperfectly -- they often stack up. And 'fixing' often means throwing something away that cannot be repaired or returning the toy in a fragile state and knowing it's going to end up on the desk again in a matter of days.)

Anyway, this spot for broken toys came to mind as an analogy this morning. There are so many people for whom I am praying urgently -- a broken marriage, a broken sense of peace, friends and family members struggling with despair and fears and loss. Even though I have had powerful experiences of God's healing, I often find myself feeling as if my prayers for these people aren't enough. I feel helpless to help them and desperately want to DO something and do it now.

I have to remind myself that praying on their behalf is helping in the most productive, powerful way possible. Yes, I should also be open to other ways of helping but should never underestimate prayer as the most effective way to help. I can't fix someone else's marriage or restore their peace or wipe away their fears. I can provide a listening ear, but only God can ultimately fix these. He cares for them more than I can, and His plan for them is better than my hopes on their behalf.

And so I saw my morning prayer as a time when I bring these broken things to God's attention. I leave them right there on his lap, the spot where He fixes what is broken. Unlike me, who fixes things eventually and imperfectly, God can do a perfect fix every time. Things end up better than they started when they are left in his care.

It would be like Sally handing me a stuffed animal cat with a torn ear and me handing her back a kitten.

Lord, please bless the people on my heart. Work in these situations to Your glory, and restore them to joy -- a joy more complete than that of a 6-year-old with a new kitten.