'Toria's Favorite Moose
It was Tuesday morning. All six of Meagan's kids were at my house while she was working at the church. Victoria had come to help, as she usually does, so she can tend to the two youngest while I help the older ones with their homeschooling assignments and, eventually, make lunch for everyone.
The older kids worked hard on the letters they were writing, so they finished quickly and moved on to building things and playing Minecraft in the family room. Three-year-old Ruthie came into the kitchen to paint a beautiful picture with watercolors, and Evie eventually joined her.
The painting was done, and I was just starting to boil water for the macaroni and cheese when Aunt Victoria carried Ruthie back into the kitchen. Ruthie was near tears as she held out a small stuffed animal in one hand, and a stubby little leg in the other hand. All she said was, "It's bwoke!"
As I took the moose and its leg from Ruthie's outstretched hands, I told her it was okay; I could fix it. I placed the two moose parts where I could see them, on top of the microwave, so I would remember to do what I had promised, and Ruthie wriggled down, out of Victoria's arms and onto the floor. She darted into the family room, and I heard her tell her brother, Ari, "You bwoke Towia's favowite moose, but Gwamma can fix it!"
I guess I hadn't heard the whole story. There had probably been a tug-of war between the two siblings over the poor moose, who got caught in the middle of it all.
Thankfully, I know how to sew, and I remembered to repair that moose this morning, with a little help from a pair of needle nose pliers, so Ruthie's faith in me was not unfounded. (My arthritis makes mending a little harder than it used to be, but I got the job done.)
At some point, Victoria must have told Ruthie that the moose was her favorite, but I'm sure she is no longer greatly attached to it, since she left it at my house when she moved out. It isn't a perfect moose; one antler is longer than the other, and one leg has always been a little shorter than the other one. And now, if you look closely, you can see the stitches--scars, I guess--from its most recent injury. But Victoria, and now Ruthie, have both loved it anyway.
In a similar way, God loves each of us, too, in spite of our imperfections. And when we're hurting, he's there to reassure us that he will always love us, and is able to "fix" us when we're falling apart. He doesn't need to pull out a needle and thread; instead, he heals us of our diseases, comforts us when we grieve, and promises to stay with us when life is hard. Best of all, because of Jesus' death and resurrection, he offers forgiveness when we mess up like Ruthie and Ari did, when they fought over the moose, and he will take all believers to heaven someday, where our worn-out bodies will be made new, and where we will live with him forever.
How blessed we are!
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