I am the smartest person in my family. Oh, if you ask my husband and my dear children, they probably won’t admit it, so please don’t ask them. They are embarrassed, and who can blame them? It’s not their fault, not really.
But I know that I’m the smartest person in my family, and they know it too. We have taken multiple tests, and I am the only one who has passed any of them. I’ve tried to tutor them, so that next time they take these tests, they’ll do better, but I’m afraid it’s hopeless.
So I try not to flaunt it. I try to be humble but honestly, there is such a huge gap in my intelligence and theirs, sometimes it is difficult to hide.
I feel bad, you know? But the tests don’t lie. So, like it or not, they will have to live with the knowledge that, in our family at least, I am a creature of superior intelligence.
What tests, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you. I know that I am the smartest person in my family because:
- I am the only one who knows how to change the toilet paper roll.
- I am the only one who knows that cabinet doors do more than open. They also close.
- I am the only one who is able to put the lid back on the toothpaste.
- I am the only one who knows where the cold medicine is located, even though we’ve kept it in the same place for the entire four years we’ve lived in this house.
- I am the only one who knows how to properly place the silverware in the dishwasher.
I could go on, but you get the point.
But in spite of my superior intelligence, there are some things that are beyond even my ability to comprehend. For example, I don’t understand why I’ve been blessed with such a generous portion of brilliance, and my poor family hasn’t. I think it may have something to do with the process of childbirth.
I’ll never understand how God came up with the idea for an octopus.
I’ll never understand how He holds the stars in place, or how He lets the tide know just how far to come in, before it goes back. I’ll never understand how He came up with so many different colors of skin, and yet they all house the same basic stuff.
I’ll never understand the miracle of spring. Eggs hatching, babies being born and all that. The flowers are budding on my apple tree, and in a few months, there will be apples all over the thing. How does God do that? The dead, brown grass is giving way to new, green blades, and right outside my window, a mama bird has been working very hard on her nest. I’m hoping that before long, we’ll have some baby birds. A little, tiny, nest full of miracles. These things leave me amazed and perplexed.
But there is one thing that boggles my mind more than any of that.
Why does God love me so much? When I think of who He is, and compare that with who I am, it doesn’t make any sense.
Yet, He does love me. He loves me so much that He thinks of me all the time – sending me beautiful flowers in the spring and fiery colored leaves in autumn. He loves me so much that He’s given me a direct line to His private phone, and He is there, any time I call. He loves me so much that He gave His life for me.
I mean, I can understand why He loves babies. Babies are cute. Sweet. Innocent. But for the life of me, I can’t comprehend His love for me.
I guess some things simply aren’t meant to be understood. Some things are just meant to be accepted.
Things like God’s great love for us.
And the fact that I am the only one in my family who can change the toilet paper roll.
“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!” 1 John 3:1.