The thing with these children is that they remember everything. They get this from their mother, who can remember the look I had on my face three years ago when I asked if that’s what we’re having for dinner. This, by the way, takes all the fun out of arguing with the woman.
So we flash back to three little boys getting immunization shots. There is Isaac, seeing if he can’t find something in the doctor’s office to break. And there is Caleb, declaring quite confidently that he is absolutely not going to let anyone stick a needle in him. And then there is precious little Eli, asking his mother why he has to get a big ouch. The answer, he is told, is that it will keep him from getting sick.
Flash forward five months. Eli, sniffling and coughing, confronts his mother: “We got those shots so we wouldn’t get sick, but I got sick. I’m not getting any more shots ever.”
Being a father has opened my eyes to how often each of us thinks he sees the whole picture, when in reality we only see a sliver. Yet even though Eli thinks we made him get a shot for nothing, he loves us all the same. Would that each of us had the same grace for others.
