The first day here, my youngest was dying to head out into the water. He wanted to go out farther, to join his big brother and cousin, to be out there where the waves were. And, of course, he wanted me to go out with him. So, I did.

After a few feet, my son was trembling, jumping up and down, pulling on my arm to pick him up. We were only up to my knees, and I could tell the waves weren’t close to any real strength. But as I bent down to pick him up, I looked out toward the ocean, and realized something.

The waves crashing at my waist were significantly higher to him. He didn’t have my view of the waves, just his little, five-year-old perspective. Even waves I deemed unrideable or impossible to surf with were enough to send his little mind into a state of panic.

So, I picked him up and held him close, and showed him that he could see over the waves, and that they weren’t too big for him to handle.

Now, I don’t have any world-creating capabilities, and I don’t know everything (hilarious, right?) but I wondered: is that what God feels like – just to a much smaller degree- when he sees me struggling through life?

“Hey, buddy, the waves aren’t that big – we can do this.”

A few moments later, my son had settled in, knowing that he could hold onto my hand if necessary, jumping with joy over and through waves that had terrified him moments before.

My son adapted thanks to the new perspective. He saw the waves no longer as problems but possibilities. He had taken a queue from me, and was ready to face the waves, knowing that I was there.

I’m pretty sure God wants the same things from us.