My co-worker Dana and I had just pulled up to the spray park in my car. The back seat was filled with little 3/5 of our little ladies, each of whom was eager to get out of the sweltering car and into the cool water.

I held my breath as I waited for the last one to pipe in.


 It's been clear from the beginning of summer that I'm not the girls' favourite staff, so this wasn't unusual. My heart sank a little bit as I unclicked my seatbelt and grabbed each of their bags from the trunk.

I laid out a quilt on the grass for them, wondering where I'd gone wrong. I bring the girls toys to play with. I bring them treats. I take them on outings. I make crafts with them. I drive them to our activities. I defend their rights. I've made them sticker books and princess crowns and newspaper dresses. I tell them how special they are and try so hard to understand them. I've done almost everything I could think of, but they still prefer to play with the other staff. It's hard not to take it personal when you've invested so much of your time and your heart in something.

A quiet voice whispered, "Maybe this is how God feels about His children too."

I imagined our Heavenly Father looking down on us, puzzling as I had just moments before. "I provide them with food. I give them shelter. I temper the elements. I give them all the good things I can and give them opportunities to grow and create beautiful things for them. They can not comprehend the love I hold for each of them. Why don't they talk to me?" I imagined Him watching us and waiting.

Talk about a humbling experience. Remembering a forgotten morning prayer, my guilt-o-meter rose a couple notches.

The smallest nugget came and sat down next to me on the quilt, wrapped in a towel. My discouraged heart warmed a little.

She scribbled happily as I silently thanked God for showing me the tiniest glimpse of the love He has for all of us.