"Stut!"

Impatiently squirming to get out of her high chair, Juliet moans: "Stut!"

Reaching for the ground because she is finished swinging: "Stut!"

Unhappy about time-out in my lap after standing up on the couch: "Stut!"

My reply, "You're not stuck, baby."

Funny how perspective changes everything. 

As Juliet's vocabulary has grown, she has learned this word associated with limited movement in a place she does not want to be. We are still anxiously waiting for her little mouth to pronounce the "-ck" sound, but her version of this word is substituted multiple times a day.

It first struck a chord in me one day as she wiggled around in her high chair. I always try to explain to her what her reality truly is. "No, sweet girl, you're not stuck. You're in your chair where it's safe and you're able to eat. Katie will get you down."

Funny how these safe and perfectly positioned places seem to her to be nothing more than a frustrating trap in certain moments of strife. Though the high chair is the easiest, simplest place for her to eat, and though the swing is the safest, most fun carrier for such a playground activity, and though sitting still in my lap is the best thing for her character and personal development after a bout of rebellion, they are often to her an annoyance, a stressor, and a position to be fought and escaped from with every ounce of energy in her baby girl body.

I recently can relate to her.

Every part of me is fighting in some way against the position, the discipline and the goodness of the Lord in this season of life. I see parts of what He is doing, and I want Him to have His way, but my soul has been restless, squirmy and "stut" in a place I do not want to be.

Same as Juliet, I would love to wriggle loose and be on my own at times, or at least I think I do. But what I cannot see is His perspective on where He has positioned me. Uncomfortable as it may be, and although I would likely not choose it on my own, He has situated, elevated, constrained and prepared me for something much better than what I can see. And to fidget away from the strong arms of my Father would mean falling, regressing, missing out on all He has in store for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.

Maybe Juliet and I can learn this lesson together.