The fan

I was sitting with Max yesterday evening. He seemed to be a little warm so I got out a paper fan and waved it a bit. He flashed a big gummy smile that stretched from ear to ear. A few minutes later, he decided that he wanted to grab it himself, and although he got a little air, it just wasn’t the same for him as when I was doing it for him. No matter what he did, it just wasn’t the same, as he eventually gave up, having failed at his goal.
It really made me think about how there have been times that things were going perfectly fine and God was blowing a nice breeze into my life. How, more often than not, I had to take control of things, grab the fan, so to speak. I could use my own intelligence to make it go faster, or make the air hit this spot or that spot. At first it seemed like it was working, but in the end, frustration. Just like Max. Wonder why it has taken me over thirty years to realize this.