A tired little girl sobbed on my lap. "I'm different from everyone in the family" she wailed, with tendrils of hair scattered across her face and tiny bits of twigs and leaves crowning her head from a day of caterpillar hunting.
"What do you mean, sweetie?" I gently prodded, stroking her back.
"Everyone likes supper but me... " and another humongous, albeit dramatic sob rocked her body as real tears rolled down her soft, sun kissed cheeks. She explained further that she just couldn't eat her supper, yet she still wanted a cookie.
I told her that everyone is different, but that was what makes us special. I told her that she was a precious part of our family. I even told her that supper tonight wasn't my favorite (my eldest daughter made it, and it was good, well... as good as a lentil-based stew can taste) but even when we don't like supper, we had to be thankful for the hands that prepared it and for the fact that we had good food to eat.
However, her cries could not be settled, and from the depths of her little soul, the sorrows of a five year old gushed out of her heart. "But I do bad things... and I lie and I disobey..." She crushed her little body against mine, spilling tears onto my neck as she clung to me tenaciously.
"Oh sweetie..." I stroked her back and told her how the Bible says that no one is good, that we all do bad things sometimes. "Jesus wants to help you, though." I reassured her. I told her how He can make your heart clean and take care of any mess that you make.
We went off to a quiet space and I asked her if she wanted to talk to Jesus. She needed a few more moments of regret, however, and lamented to me: "I don't care about being on the front page of the newspaper, I only care about Jesus! ...and Mommy." (Just that day, she and her brother were posted on the front page of our local newspaper, in a picture taken at a community event the day before.) I smiled and felt my heart melting at the precious and simple perspective that my daughter held.
"Are you ready to talk to Jesus now?" I quietly asked her, as she sat curled up in my lap, her head on my chest.
"Okay" she replied, and began to whisper a simple little prayer into my ear. "Dear Jesus, I hope you can come and make my heart all clean and be with me always. In Jesus' name, Amen."
Done. Clean. All is well. I felt a spring of joy fill my soul at my daughter's beautiful expression of trust as her little arms reached out to a Father who loves her.
"I feel a smile in my heart, don't you?" I asked her, looking down into her pretty hazely-blue eyes.
She nodded, the corners of her rosebud mouth turning up with an expression of contented happiness. We merrily headed outside, her little hand in mine, and joined the family on a beautiful, early evening walk.
"What do you mean, sweetie?" I gently prodded, stroking her back.
"Everyone likes supper but me... " and another humongous, albeit dramatic sob rocked her body as real tears rolled down her soft, sun kissed cheeks. She explained further that she just couldn't eat her supper, yet she still wanted a cookie.
I told her that everyone is different, but that was what makes us special. I told her that she was a precious part of our family. I even told her that supper tonight wasn't my favorite (my eldest daughter made it, and it was good, well... as good as a lentil-based stew can taste) but even when we don't like supper, we had to be thankful for the hands that prepared it and for the fact that we had good food to eat.
However, her cries could not be settled, and from the depths of her little soul, the sorrows of a five year old gushed out of her heart. "But I do bad things... and I lie and I disobey..." She crushed her little body against mine, spilling tears onto my neck as she clung to me tenaciously.
"Oh sweetie..." I stroked her back and told her how the Bible says that no one is good, that we all do bad things sometimes. "Jesus wants to help you, though." I reassured her. I told her how He can make your heart clean and take care of any mess that you make.
We went off to a quiet space and I asked her if she wanted to talk to Jesus. She needed a few more moments of regret, however, and lamented to me: "I don't care about being on the front page of the newspaper, I only care about Jesus! ...and Mommy." (Just that day, she and her brother were posted on the front page of our local newspaper, in a picture taken at a community event the day before.) I smiled and felt my heart melting at the precious and simple perspective that my daughter held.
"Are you ready to talk to Jesus now?" I quietly asked her, as she sat curled up in my lap, her head on my chest.
"Okay" she replied, and began to whisper a simple little prayer into my ear. "Dear Jesus, I hope you can come and make my heart all clean and be with me always. In Jesus' name, Amen."
Done. Clean. All is well. I felt a spring of joy fill my soul at my daughter's beautiful expression of trust as her little arms reached out to a Father who loves her.
"I feel a smile in my heart, don't you?" I asked her, looking down into her pretty hazely-blue eyes.
She nodded, the corners of her rosebud mouth turning up with an expression of contented happiness. We merrily headed outside, her little hand in mine, and joined the family on a beautiful, early evening walk.
2 comments:
Beautiful Lisa...
I remember moments like this from my childhood...the revelations the Holy Spirit brings at all levels of understanding are soooooo precious!
Looking back to those years where simple faith was birthed and a growing trust in God was cultivated by my mother I can truly say that those foundations stand firm! They bring such glory to God. Blessings!
What a wonderful mother you are. And what a precious child.
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