Overflowing with a Childlike Heart

When I don't have an early morning appointment, I slip onto the edge of our kitchen table and sip coffee with my nose only inches from our picture window. My child's heart wakens with wonder as birds perch on our feeder and squirrels eat seed dropped on the porch floor. While I'd rather the squirrels were bunnies with long ears and whiskers, their constant flitting amuses me as I emerge from sleep.

Today was no different. In need of a shower and aware of dishes and laundry piled behind me, I sat barefoot on the table's edge and took in our yard of green. Every now and then I'm certain the trees talk, especially when their leaves blow in rhythmic conformity, tossed effortlessly by the wind.

At times I've questioned my tendency towards child like wonder. But not any more.

My friend, Antje, sent me a CD series about two weeks ago. We met over 20 years ago when she lived nearby. Friends for a time, we lost touch after she moved (with her new husband) to her homeland, Australia. Like many of you, we connected on Facebook in recent years and stay in touch via the internet. Still, I was surprised when she asked for my address to send something my way.

Not long after, a package arrived from Brilliant Book House. When I opened it, I held the CD set, Growing Up in God. Since Antje had gone to so much trouble to send it, I was grateful for a long drive the next day, during which I soaked in Graham Cooke's teaching. As a result, I'm living with new perspective... or rather an old perspective now validated and made real again.

For one of the most poignant lessons I learned during my first husband's illness came to me while we sat in the pediatric neuro-oncology department at Duke University Hospital. As chemotherapy dripped into Jason's veins, I read the following:

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me." (Matthew 18: 1-5 NIV)

The words rushed into my soul like living water. We were to be like children. To think like children. To trust like children. To awake with wonder like my bright eyed boys who entered the day unscathed by life's complexity.  The Holy Spirit whispered, "I want you to trust me like your boys trust you. I want you to wake with joy instead of worry simply because you know I'm going to take care of you."

"Seriously?" I countered, "There's a brain tumor growing in Jason's head. He's already been deemed terminal. I may lose the father of my children and my best friend and you want me to trust with childlike wonder?"
 

My grandson, Adam!

Adam and Penny!

My toddlers rarely woke without a smile, ready to embrace the day. When I nurtured that joy, our day went well. But when stress and worry left me with heavy steps that longed for an escape, we often melted down by nap time. 


Child like joy. It's not easy to maintain.

But Jesus said, "Whoever welcomes one such child, welcomes me."

Would I really find freedom by simply welcoming my children every day? By relaxing into my father's care and overwhelming love for me?

Mr. Cooke's teaching is a seven part series about nurturing your child's heart; about truly trusting as a much loved child of God. As I listened to his words, the lesson came back in full force and awakened that place of wonder with renewed tenacity.

So I'll swing my feet on the edge of our kitchen table and listen for talking trees. And hope that in the process my soul stretches wide to where calm overrides worry and peace surpasses fear. 

He really has it all under control. My child heart knows this well.

 

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photo credit: Butterfly_DSC0641 via photopin (license)