Spoiled

On the way to the fertility doctor the other day, I was struck by how afraid I was.

I thought of my own child and how I don't want her to be afraid. I want her to be glad and secure.

In fact, each year at Christmas, I tell myself that I won't overdo presents for her, but as the day approaches, I find myself picking up last minute gifts here and there. In the end, she always has a bit more gifts than she knows what to do with. I love to lavish her with goodness.

And so it was with this sentiment that I prayed the most unusual prayer I ever have to God:
"God, spoil me."

I felt a twinge of guilt for praying this. But again my thoughts went to my daughter who has a way of pleading in her eyes when she asks for frosting on her graham crackers or an occasional toy in the store that would make her day. I don't always comply, but when I do, it's with sheer happiness, watching her eyes grow in amazement.

"Spoiling" isn't really a biblical concept, I realize. The more staunch theologians will slap me on the hand for ignoring God's rich gift of life I experience every day. But when I read the Psalms, I see a poet who begs God to shine His face upon him. And what child doesn't melt when their parent grins at them?

I said my prayer again, this time with more resolve: "God, spoil me."