From my 2015 Journal. Three-year-old Ben spent the day with me while his mom was out of town and big brother Jack was at school. Together we unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, emptied all the trash, shredded a ream of paper, lined up all the toy cars and trucks, assembled some puzzles, read some books, and played games together. He learned how to climb up the ladder at the playground, snacked every hour, and went potty frequently, needing some help still with getting his pants up and down. I let him do everything he could by himself—until he asked for help, and then I eagerly stepped in to proffer my assistance. We made messes, we picked them up. I told him over and over again how much I loved him.

This whole day was spent in deep delight as I watched Ben’s skills improve, his joy in the playtime, his eagerness to help me do housework. “I’m a big boy!” he’d declare periodically. And when he remarked, “I love you, Grandma,” my heart burst with joy.

Was this little tyke really helping me? Could I not have loaded and unloaded that dishwasher in half the time it took for him to decide where every piece of silverware belonged? Did I really need his help emptying trash cans? The answer, of course, is no. And he often needed more assistance than he gave in return. Sometimes we had to clean up the messes that he made while attempting to help.

As I reflected back, I saw this special day through the eyes of my Father in Heaven. He graciously allows me to “help” Him, I make messes that He has to help clean up. And I need Him a whole lot more than He needs me. But a day spent with Him is a deep delight to us both.