Childlike

Sometimes when I hear the testimonies of others, I think thankfully (and maybe guiltily?) of my easy life. How does a cancerous woman die with such grace? How does the married-but-not-married-woman bear years of abuse and neglect? What does it feel like to lose a parent, child, husband, embryo? I am grateful that my heart has been spared the big crevasses of pain that I’ve witnessed on other hearts.

But small things tire a heart out as well. I worry about my family and friends. I groan in frustration with daily failures of my character. I do not do what I want to do. I stress over weighty decisions about children and education, as if it all depends on my choice or wisdom.

How to stay fresh in a stale world? Be a child. Jesus called the little children to him, and I don’t think he meant only those young in age. To be young in heart is to trust, to climb in the lap of the Father. (I think that maybe Jesus called the little children to him because he was once a child. He thought like a child. We felt the frustrations of being young, as well as the trustworthiness and excitement in a small heart.)

If you have children, you understand what I mean when I say “grumpy time of day”. It’s always that late afternoon hour, and it makes dinner prep equal to the challenge of a marathon. My son wants to held during his cranky fest. Only that physical contact eases his foul mood.

Shouldn’t that be how it is with us and our heavenly Father? What’s carved your heart up lately? Maybe it’s just an irritable attitude, but all the same, you need to be held. So put your arms up to the Father. He’s not got dinner prep to worry about.

Do I fear the suffering I know will be in my future? Do I live delicately, hesitantly, fearing God’s goodness is nearing its end? No, I live like a child, reaching heavenward with little arms. I may be relatively scar-free, but not by my merit, but by His grace.

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