My three-year-old nephew is having his first fight with God. He refuses to say his prayers. He doesn't understand why a Heavenly Father that loves him so much won't let him have a little brother or sister.
Frankly, it's an understandable complaint. My sister deserves to be a mother of whole nations and anyone would be lucky to have her for a mother. It seems pretty unfair, especially when we've all prayed and fasted and gotten our hopes up through two rounds of in vitro and nothing. Almost nothing.
There being a library of what I don't know about the reproductive system, I can't tell you how it works but somehow my sister has ended up with the morning sickness and no baby. She's been really brave about it. She tells me this is the one thing that she's put entirely into the hands of God and not worry about. She worries about a lot of things, is very independent and motivated, but this is something she's willing to go on faith on.
I haven't called my sister yet, I ought to. I wanted to send a condolence card, but Mom said probably not to, that my sister's just working through this stiff-lipped right now. I'm a bit upset, sure. Twice I've prayed in fervor for this to sort out as it ought to, and twice I've been frustrated. Okay, so maybe God has other plans, but surely there's nothing unrighteous about wanting more babies in our family? I, too, I guess, am working through this stiff-lipped, trying not to be disappointed in the omniscience of my God. After all, I know pretty well all sorts of philosophies of God not being Santa Claus and His knowing a lot better than any of us, and His will, not ours, so I can get through this okay.
So how do you explain all that to a three-year-old? I sent him a package with a hat I had knit and some chocolate-covered cinnamon bears. It's not a bribe to restore his faith in something good, but maybe it will support him as he gets through this wrestle, his first wrestle with angels.