“We need to put more butter on my pasta.”
Mama looked at my three-year-old brother incredulously. “We already used two pats of butter. You don't need any more.”
“No,” Daniel insisted, “I need more butter.”
Mama sighed and added one more pat.
“Needs more.”
“That’s three pats of butter. If you have any more, you're setting yourself up for a heart attack at twenty. No more butter.”
Daniel missed the significance of watching his cholesterol intake. “It needs more butter.”
“No, you cannot have any more butter.”
Now it was Daniel’s turn to be incredulous. “More butter.”
“Why do you think you need more butter?”
“It needs more butter. I can't see any in there.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
Daniel learned to trust that the butter was actually in the pasta even though he couldn't see it. Unfortunately, this is a lesson I have yet to master. Not about butter on my pasta, but about God’s hand in my life.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“I need more proof that You're guiding me.”
“My child, I've already shown you so much. Trust me. Trust that I will guide you as I've guided you in the past.”
“But, God, I can't see it. I can't see what You have shown me.”
“I have show you what you need to know. Your faith will not grow if you can see everything I do. You trust that butter will melt on your pasta. Can you trust that I will lead you as you need? This is about your soul, not your linguini. Trust Me.”