The crayon snapped in two, unable to withstand the force of the tiny hand repeatedly ramming it onto the surface of a coloring book. It took a second for our two-year-old crayon-killer to realize what had happened; when he did, Nico turned to face me, lower lip jutting out as he prepared to burst into tears. But then, just as quickly as his mood had darkened, he turned it around, his frown spreading into a smile as the spark of an idea dawned in his eyes. He scooped the pieces of crayon into his hands and toddled down the hallway to Luke’s office, calling back to me: “It’s okay. Daddy fix it!”
Luke was able to fix the crayon, just as he’s fixed hundreds of other toys that Nico and his siblings have brought to him over the years: electronic toys whose batteries have given up the ghost; picture books severed from their bindings; princess sandals with the heel broken off; beaded necklaces that have slipped from their strand; cracked piggy banks and fraying stuffed animals; three-wheeled toy trains and punctured balls and Happy Meal toys that would have been easier to replace than to fix. . . . If a toy breaks in our home, the kids know just who to ask for help. The toys might linger for some time at the toy hospital that is the corner of Luke’s desk, but it’s a rare toy indeed that Daddy has been unable to rescue.
Luke is an Eagle Scout, which in my mind (and the kids’) means that he knows how to do just about anything with his hands. He was also homeschooled by a mom who believed her children should be responsible for their own learning, so when confronted with something he doesn’t know how to fix, he’s able to find a solution. And he’s a software engineer, which means that it isn’t just the kids who come to Luke with their broken toys, but me any time something goes wrong with my phone or my website or anything remotely technical. Luke is The Great Problem-Solver and Healer in our family, and we all carry full confidence in his abilities.
Of course, there are some things that Luke can’t fix. Just yesterday, Nico crumbled a muffin on his plate, and when we told him that he should have eaten the muffin before disassembling it, he handed the crumbs off to Luke to piece the pastry back together. (Spoiler: the muffin was beyond rescue.)
Sometimes, the limits to Luke’s fixit capabilities have higher stakes. A few weeks ago I admonished Nico for climbing on the furniture, warning him that he might fall and break a bone or split open his head: “It’s okay,” he reassured me, “Daddy fix it!” And yes, Luke IS our resident doctor (the man knows his way around a First Aid kit and is brilliant with homeopathic remedies), but I don’t think he’s up for casting a broken arm or stitching a gaping head wound. That doesn’t keep Nico from rushing to Daddy with every owie, fully confident that his father will be able to offer immediate relief.
One day soon, Nico will realize that his daddy is not a superhero. He will start to recognize that some things are beyond saving, that even Daddy—with his vast problem solving skills and handyman’s know-how—cannot make every broken thing new again. I hope that this realization doesn’t keep him from seeking his dad’s help, that he will still ask Daddy to fix the broken toys and the scraped knees and the wounded feelings, even if there’s a possibility that he won’t be able to.
I’ve had Nico’s “Daddy fix it” mantra echoing in my ears in my prayer times lately. Unlike Nico, my first response to a problem isn’t always to rush to my (Heavenly) Daddy, but it should be! Whereas Luke’s fixing abilities are limited, God actually CAN solve every problem I bring to Him; sometimes He’s just waiting for me to ask! Other times, God refrains from solving the problems in the ways I had hoped He might. But that shouldn’t keep me from coming to Him; even in the “no” or “wait” responses to my petitions, there is power in my coming before Him with my requests, as each moment spent in prayer deepens my relationship with Him.
Seeking God’s help grows my faith and trust in Him. When He answers my prayers with a YES, I am able to feel His kindness toward me and witness His desire to satisfy my needs. The NO answers are an opportunity to trust that God’s ways are bigger than my ways, that He is working out something greater than my limited mind can see or understand.
When my heart is breaking. . . . When life feels hard. . . . When circumstances are too heavy for me to carry on my own . . . I want to have Nico’s same response of running to my Father for help. Confident that He cares about what’s broken and will fix it in the way that is best. May “Daddy fix it” be the prayer that is always on my lips and in my heart as I trust fully that He CAN and that He CARES and that He wants nothing more than for me to run into His helping, healing arms.
