I love to give gifts to my kids, but I’ve got to admit- I hate to share. When we were kids and my mom wanted a lick of our ice-cream cones she would say, “It tastes better when you share.” We caught on to that racket pretty quickly. I see my stingy heart the most quickly when it comes to food. Surely I can’t be the only mom who waits until the kids are in bed to grab the secret stash of forbidden foods. The kids eat organic peanut butter and jelly for lunch and as soon as they’re down for naps I’m pulling out the leftover pizza.
I realized I’m not the only one in my house with a selfish attitude when I woke up to an unusual noise in my room the other morning. It was pretty early for the pitter patter of little feet already, but here came my two year-old. He is the middle child of our family and has learned to cope quite well with that, as I was about to learn. He snuck into my room, pulled all the blankets out of the blanket chest and uncovered his big brother’s favorite Toy Story Woody doll that he had apparently found and hidden there. What a little genius. I’ve got to say I was so impressed with this multistep thought process that I couldn’t even get him in trouble.
We are born as little self-preservation machines. From birth we know how to express our needs and as we learn to do things for ourselves we become experts at putting our desires before anyone else’s. Although throughout life we learn how to put that selfishness to death, I don’t think there’s any faster crash-course than parenthood. The instant you become a parent your life is no longer your own. I imagine that’s why for so many of us God has chosen this route for our important lessons in self-denial. I want to get better at finding the joy in sharing. . . although I’m not making any promises about giving up my secret snacks.