Fruit Loops, Goldilocks, and Flexibility

Nana sat on the floor of the cabin with 4 hand towels spread out in front of her, one for each grand child and one for her.  They were having a picnic, at the insistence of my precocious and ever-creative 4 year old daughter, Isabelle, who had spent the day dressed up as Belle, from Beauty and the Beast. 

This wasn't the plan. 

The plan was to relax with the grandkids, watching movies while my husband and I shopped for souvenirs at Downtown Disney on the last day of our family vacation.  My mom, Nana, had insisted on keeping my 4 year old and 1 year old, along with my 2 year old niece, while we shopped, and I agreed, hoping she'd enjoy some much needed rest after 2 days of Disney World theme parks. 

But somehow, the plan didn't work.  I'm still lost on the details, but this is what I do know:  I'd forgotten to leave the EpiPen for my son's peanut allergies, so I sent it back to my cabin with my sister about 5 minutes after we'd all parted ways.  Somehow, the EpiPen ended up in my cabin.  And somehow, my mom ended up without a key.  The DVD player and movies were also in my cabin.

So my mom kept the kids next door at her cabin. 

But then she spotted Fruit Loops that had somehow spilled on the floor. 

Where was the box?

How could she check for safe ingredients without the box? 

The most random of things can be processed with peanuts, and she had no idea if this is one of those random things, along with certain brands of barbecue sauce, oatmeal, and animal crackers.

What's a Nana to do? 

Throw all the kids in the bathtub.  Immediately.  They're safe there, and what kid doesn't enjoy a bath?  They were all happy and safe, including my peanut-allergy toddler.  She also notified my 16 year old brother that he would be breaking a window to get the EpiPen, should my son have a life-threatening allergic reaction that day.

When bathtime was over, she brought all of the kids into the back bedroom of the cabin, where no fruit loops or other mysterious foods could be found.  They played in the cave for a while--the bunk beds, that is.  Then my daughter wanted to hear a story, one that she only hears from Nana, Goldilocks and the Three Bears. 

And that is how a 1 year old, a 2 year old, a 4 year old, and Nana ended up sitting cross legged on the floor, having a picnic with dishtowels and pretend food.  No fruit loops.  Which are a safe food, by the way.  But she didn't know that.

When I heard the story, I had to laugh.  Only my mom, only Nana, would do something like this.  At any point in time, she could have insisted that one of us come back to the cabin to bring a key so that she could get the DVD player, movies, and the EpiPen out.  That's what I probably would've done.  It makes sense and it also would've been an inconvenience to everyone else.

But not Nana.  That's not her style.  Instead, she inconvenienced herself. 
I really struggle with flexibility and contentment.  But not my mom.  She accepts her lot with grace and joy.  She looks at a situation and says "This is what God has dealt me."  And she enjoys it, making the best of it.  I get bent out of shape when the plan doesn't happen.  I don't throw a picnic and play in an imaginary cave.  I insist that the situation get fixed and rectified.  And right now, thankyouverymuch!

But that's what contentment looks like.  It's a picnic when you're tired, telling Goldilocks and the Three Bears, using your silly Papa Bear voice that makes the toddlers collapse into giggles over and over again.

Lord, teach me contentment.  Show me the beauty of my plans being interrupted by a God who knows exactly what needs to happen today.  

But godliness with contentment is great gain.  1 Timothy 6:6