God Only Knows...

My children are unique. Noah will tell you so himself. "Ms. Sunny says I'm unique." They are incredibly reflective of their father and me...artistic, loud, outspoken and just slightly off the beaten path. Sometimes I wonder just what to make of them...their little senses of humor...their timing...just the way they tick.

This morning, as we were putting on his tennis shoes, Noah looked over at his sound machine. (He has slept to the noise of rain since birth.) "Mommy, what's a machine?" he said. "Well, it depends on what machine you're talking about." I replied. "I'm talkin' 'bout my sound machine." he explained. "Oh. Well, it's a machine that makes noise." (seriously- that's as in depth as I got...I have the scientific know-how of a fruit fly) "Well," he began, "what's going on inside of there?" "Well, Noah- there are gears maybe or electronic thingies...or...heck, I don't know, Noah. Only the person who made the machine knows how it works." "Somebody MADE my sound machine?" "Sure. How do you think it got there? Somebody made it and put it in a store for you to buy." "Why, Mommy?" "Why what?" "Why did they make my machine?" "To help people sleep, I guess. Again, only the person who made it knows why they made it...and how they made it..."

My mind, which loves a good metaphor set to work immediately. Only our maker knows why He made us. Only our maker knows how He made us. Only our maker understands what's going on inside of us. Made me feel like a piece of equipment for a minute...and maybe I am. Who knows why we're here? Who knows how we tick? Who knows what roll we fill?

Sometimes, I just want to look up at heaven and ask, "Father, what's a boy?" He'd probably say something like, "It depends on what boy you're talking about?" And I would reply, "I'm talkin' 'bout my boys." And he'd probably say, "Oh, you mean MY boys. I made them." And just like Noah, I would want to know why. "Why did you make my boys...I mean, your boys, Lord?" I wonder what he'd say? God only knows...