My necklaces had all managed to find one another in my tiny jewelry box, and they had intertwined into a big, tangled mess. It was terribly frustrating, trying to untangle them.
I brought them to my mother in desperation, asking her to help me. It had become apparent I was unable to untangle the mass of chains, and the more I tried, the tighter the knots became.
I handed them over, and she slowly began to loosen the knots. Little by little, some of the chains were coming free from the bundle.
But I was far too impatient to wait. I reached out and began to tug, thinking I could hurry along the process. Little girls are not generally known for their great patience.
It was in vain, of course. The chains tightened again, and the knots became bigger. It was not until I handed the necklaces over, and waited patiently, that my mother was able to loosen the chains, one at a time, until everything was unraveled and ready again for use.
This is the picture God brought to my mind recently, concerning the way I sometimes pray. I realize the issues I am praying about, the problems on my heart, are far too difficult and intricate for me to solve. I hand them over in desperation.
But I get impatient. I try to interfere, to help speed things along. And the peace I had while He held my problems gets lost in the tightening grip of my tugging and pulling.
I know He is good, that He works all things for my good, that He loves me. I feel compelled to trust that in His timing, He will unfurl every tangle, right every wrong, heal every illness, wipe away every tear.
So I will wait, patiently, and rest in His peace that passes all understanding.