I love cookies.

When I was young, one of the best things about having my mother for a mom was that she made homemade cookies.  Chocolate chip, of course.  But also molasses cookies with raisins.  Oatmeal cookies with walnuts.  Sugar cookies with icing.  Chocolate cookies with powdered sugar.

My mouth is watering right now.  Where's the milk?

One of the hardest things was NOT eating the cookies.  We were allowed two, maybe.  Or perhaps three at a time.  I don't remember. What I do remember is that the number we were allowed was never enough.  By the time I was a teenager I'd learned when to sneak into the kitchen unnoticed and just how to turn the lid to the cookie jar so it wouldn't squeak.

Even my father sneaked cookies.

Well, you can probably appreciate my relief when, at the time I left home and got my own apartment, I discovered that there were no adults watching just how many cookies I ate.  I could buy a whole bag and eat them in one evening if I wanted. (And occasionally, I did.)

It was not until years later that I really began to curtail my overzealous cookie eating. And can you guess what it was that stopped me? -- an alert two-year-old.

No, my toddler daughter didn't confront me.  In fact, it wasn't a single thing she did.  Other than exist.

Being the cookie-conscious person I am, I assumed that a child in my house would be as aware as I concerning the whereabouts of the cookie jar and the noises that accompany someone reaching in for yet another yummy snack.  I knew that she might hear me.  If she knew that I was getting a cookie, you can bet that she'd be right behind me, with her little hand outstretched.

Well, we have rules in our house, too.  A little girl cannot have more than two cookies before dinner.  And no sweets before lunch at all.  But if I'm going to enforce the rules in my house, guess who has to obey them first?

Yeah, I do.

Which leads me to the point of this discussion. Sometimes I wonder if God set up this whole parenting thing not simply for the rearing and nurturing of children.  I'm sure He could have produced new humans fully mature and not requiring so much assistance, if He wanted to.

Instead, He put them into our care.  And gave us the task to show them how to behave.  Which, in the long run, requires that we parents behave first.

Because little children have big eyes and big ears and love to mimic everything we do.

In all the years before I had children of my own, I was a slave to my cookie-loving appetites.  But He saved me from that wicked nature.  He gave me children.  He gave me love for the child that helped me triumph over naughty behavior and provided supernatural strength to stop eating cookies when I shouldn't.  By giving my children.  He taught me to behave.

He truly is a God of salvation!

 

~ Author Ginia Dible writes regularly on motivating children to read.  Find her ideas at www.KeepKidsReading.com  She welcomes your ideas.