He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not...

Tito woke up in a MOOD today. I had to make a return at Costco and briefly contemplated asking if they would also make an exchange on a seemingly-faulty two year old.

We have a sort of game that we play in the car; we've been doing it since he was starting to talk, and it usually goes something like this:

"Tito, does momma love you?"
"Yeah."
"Does daddy love you?"
"Yeah."
"Does grandma love you?"
"Yeah."
"Does grandpa love you?"
"Yeah."
"Does uncle ___ love you?"
"Yeah."
"Does aunt ___ love you?"
"Yeah."
"Does Momo (the dog) love you?"
"Yeah."
"Does Caca (other dog) love you?"
"Yeah."
 ... and so on. We always end with:
"Does Jesus love you?"
(silence)
"Does Jesus love you most of all?"
"YEEAHHHHH."

Today on the way to Costco, however, it went something like this:

 "Tito, does momma love you?"
"Gra' Ki' love" ("Grandma Kitty loves me")
"Does daddy love you?"
"Gra' Ki' love"
"Does uncle ____ love you?"
"Gra' Ki' love"
"Does Momo love you?"
"Gra' Ki' love"
"Does Jesus love you?"
"Gra' Ki' love"

 The message of this grouchy toddler was pretty clear: You don't love me like I want to be loved right now, and Grandma Kitty would.

Oh, sweet boy. Lord have mercy. Truly, the Lord needs to have mercy because my little boy and I are a lot more alike than we are different. On our way out of Costco, somewhere between paying and getting to my car, I lost my wallet. And as I frantically searched the store, my car and the parking lot, the conversation between me and God was kind of a repeat from this morning:

"Molly, do you know that I love you?"
"If you loved me, you'd help me find my wallet."
"Do I love you?"
"Please make both of my kids stop crying."
"Do I love you?"
"My head is about to explode. Can we make this a theological issue later?"
"Do I love you?"
"I'd be feeling it a lot more if this time when I opened the back of my car, my wallet miraculously appeared."
"Do I love you?"
"I know you do, but throw me a bone and make my wallet turn up? 'All things are possible with God,' right?"
"Do I love you?"
"I'm sure you do, but that's not going to stop me from freaking out and then wallowing for a while."

This time it's a wallet, but God does often call his people to significantly less-trivial trials. And he invites the dialog, knowing that we won't always give the right answer on our end. The important part is not our answer, but the one asking the question. In fact, it's more of a statement than a question. Tito, momma loves you whether you feel like it right now or not, and whether you have been a turd all morning or not. And Molly, God loves you whether you find your wallet or not, whether you trust him through it or not. That's a love worth banking on.

(And, Costco called about 2 1/2 hours after the wallet went missing to say that it had been turned in. I am thanking God for his mercy in this small thing.)