Last night we were talking to our youngest daughter about how we'd rig Candyland when she was little. Do you know the game I'm talking about? With characters like Plumpy, Princess Lolly, Lord Licorice, Queen Frostine, and my personal favorite, Gloppy? We played the game with all of our kids and still have our well-worn copy.

It can be a frustrating game for little people sometimes. You can get very close to the end, almost past Molasses Swamp, and then draw a card that sends you back to the Peppermint Forest. We have seen our share of tears over this small tragedy.

So we'd rig it—stack the cards just right so our littlest one would draw only the best cards in succession and reach the Candy Castle without setbacks. I can still see the joy on her face.

I know this ruse did not contribute to the "toughening up" that so many parents feel obligated to provide their kids. But doesn't life do enough of that without any help from us?

After we talked about it last night, I realized how many times my Heavenly Father has "rigged Candyland" for me, stacked up the cards just right so things turn our miraculously well. Maybe He does it just to see the joy on my face.

He is that kind of Father. I could tell you story after story about how many times the cards have been inexplicably stacked in my favor. And you could too, couldn't you?

It happens almost every day, actually. I'm noticing it more and more. It's always been there but now I see more clearly.

Come to think of it, I can't wait to foist this little subterfuge on our younger grandkids.
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