In the bedroom broken train tracks scatter the floor. My two year olds are happily playing with the remaining intact tracts that lead onto the well worn carpet.

I sit down on the floor with them in the mess they have created. My mind starts to contemplate how I can arrange the tracks to enhance their play. A bridge here, a tunnel there, yes that will be perfect. They will love it.

Except they don’t. “No mama, no fix it”. The little voice continues on. Lamenting as I try to explain that what I am doing is going to be better. So much better.

It is as if each track I lay brings an extra agony of grief to his little heart. Slowly the track starts to come together amongst the whining and grumbling. It is one of my better designs. Slowly the grumbling begins to fade and a smile starts to form on their little faces. They see the broken tracks come together to form something new, something better.

They start working alongside me. Their excitement now evident as they can see what we are creating together. Squeals of laughter and shouts of joy echo out into the hallway as we watch the train go from the top of the hill to the bottom and up and over the bridge.

I sit back and watch. My breath catches for a moment. Here in my children’s bedroom I see just how similar I am to my toddlers. I often grumble or become anxious when life is hard and painful. Not seeing how the Holy Spirit is wanting to work in me. Wanting to use the struggle to grow me into something and someone who is more like Christ. Fixing the broken tracks for my good and for his glory.