Little Man Theology

"D" is what we will call him...

He is the little one I get to play mama with, love, and care for, but most days I feel as though he is caring for me. 

There are some days, like all of us, where I come into work like every other but my eyes feel leaky, and my heart full of unexpressed weights desperately in need of being lifted. 

"D" helps me with that. 

He, in his startling and unassuming youth, does not allow those days to slip past his ability to reach out. He seems to notice every time pain or panic pricks my heart, addressing it in ways only he knows how. 

One time, he stopped mid lunch and laid his tiny, ketchup smeared ( "D" puts ketchup on everything ) hand on mine. "God loves you really much, and he thinks you're special the way you are," he offered slowly with diction, still chewing. He removed his hand and picked up his fork for another bite. "Ok?" He asked pointedly, probably due to the fact that I was sitting a cross from him in silence with tears rolling down my cheeks. "Ok," I sniffed. I was in a whirlwind of identity crisis when I arrived at work that morning, wanting to be all that God had for me, hating who I was instead. Did "d" see that in my eyes? I thanked him after lunch, using words he would understand. He said that I was welcome and he loved me. 

He is three years old. 

But he hears God's heart better than most of us I believe. 

Later that week he would ask if we could pray about sin. We were barreling down the road but I stopped the car and pulled over anyway. I climbed in the backseat with him and we prayed. My heart seemed murky next to his, but in all reality we both had confessions to make and forgiveness to ask for. 

There is something God knows all too well of me. There is a large portion of my heart that still wears footie pajamas. I am younger than I let on, or maybe it's that I see things as if I am looking up at them. At any length, I am still very childlike in spirit. 

Because of this, when "D" says something hard, or true, I hear it. Maybe it's because his face has dirt on it, or could it be that he just called me "mama bird" ... Tweet tweet. Even so, I believe it is due to the fact that when he speaks truth, the piece of me that understands youth resonates. Child's heart meets child's heart. 

When "D" confronts, I accept. 

Today, as he fastens his superD cape around his neck, he turns to me and proclaims, " sometimes when we can't save the world we say, nevermind!"

I laughed, and then sighed. Letting my agenda, and my ability to save the future float away In the wind sounded like a lovely... If not daunting, idea. 

I get locked in and pulled down. 

Wouldn't it be so much better to adopt "D's" mindset? 

I can't save the world today. I'm too tired and God will do a better job anyhow. 

Nevermind. 

Now doesn't that feel like freedom?