There’s a book my oldest son really enjoys called “Put Me in the Zoo.” The story goes something like this. There’s this large spotted animal, I think it’s some sort of cross between a big cat and a polar bear. Anyway, the animal really wants to be in the zoo, but they keep tossing him out. He does this really cool trick with his spots; he can turn them different colors. Two kids, who are talking to him throughout the story, suggest that actually the circus is the place for him. So, he goes to the circus and sees for himself, exclaiming, “The Circus IS the Place for Me!”

I have read this book to Kade 100 times. Tonight when I read it, I saw something I never saw before. The point. These kids books are actually pretty deep sometimes. Kade loves the zoo. He loves the animals. He loves everything about it. We recently took him to see the circus though. And he was mesmerized. His jaw was on the floor. He was truly amazed. His circus blew the zoo away.

I started wondering how many times I’ve been bent out of shape about the friggin zoo, like that kid from Jerry McGuire, all bawled up and focused on some pursuit or passion or aspiration that I set for myself. Meanwhile, God has a circus waiting for me somewhere, and I’m too short-sighted to get it. I’m so devastated that I can’t get into the zoo. That’s all I can process. God’s will, not mine. That’s a hard one to remember.  So, every time I start trying to figure out a way into the zoo, I keep telling myself to stop it and wait till the circus comes to town.