I was standing in my married friend's apartment, doing my hair. (Don't ask and don't ask.) She held her squirming baby, shmoozing with me and watching for bits I missed. At some point, the baby got bored of talk about jobs and shidduchim, and decided to take back the conversation. She leaned over and reached for the iron.
I jumped back, scared she'd get hurt. She reached further, but I just moved further away. She started to cry. Her mother tried distracting her with something else, but she wanted none of it. All she wanted was my piping hot hair iron.
The baby wailed, and her mother and I marveled at the phenomenon. I wrote a poem along these lines once, but this mashal is so awesomely clear now.
How often do we stretch out our hands, begging Hashem for something? How often do we cry and plead for a specific request? How many times have we refused to he placated with anything else? All that while, Hashem is holding it as far away from us as possible.
We only see the "no," we miss the "no my child, I don't want you to get hurt."