My and Mine

Julia and I were sitting on the sofa, looking out the front window and rehashing the day's events. Summer is in full swing; we are in our routine; and I couldn't be happier. At this particular moment, she is recounting (i.e. giving her side of the story) an episode from earlier in the day where I witnessed Julia blow up at Isabel for riding her bike. She so rarely acts bratty or possessive that I am taken aback by her comments. "But it is my bike, mom," she emphatically states. I remind her that she was riding her scooter at the time, so what difference should it make that Isabel wanted to ride the bike. She firmly held her ground, "But [But starts many a sentence these days] Isabel has her own bike here. What does she need to ride mine for?" All I could hear was my and mine. I reminded her that all things ultimately belong to God. Whatever we have, I explained, is a gift from God. It is only ours temporarily. Knowing that she could not argue her way out of that and eager to lighten the mood and change the subject, she tips her chin to her chest and tries to fight a smile. She raises only her eyes and says in a quiet giggle, "So God has a girls' bike?"