The innocence of a child - the voice of truth

I have to share this sweet story. It will be something I will remember for a long time.

Most of you are quite aware of the roller coaster I have been riding –against my will. Those who know me best realize that I really don’t like roller coasters. My poor husband, who loves most things extreme and thinks the bigger and crazier the roller coaster the better, has to go to amusement parks with some one other than me if he wants a coaster buddy. I don’t get the thrill of feeling like you can’t breathe and may be sick at any moment. Why? I don't get it. Perhaps you roller coaster lovers can enlighten me. Any way, back to my story.

This morning I felt a little bit more stable then yesterday, but still struggled with the thoughts that have plagued me for the past few days. One of the most difficult to deal with, and to admit, was the feeling of being some what detached spiritually. It’s that head knowledge versus heart knowledge thing. Some things you absolutely know, but when you don’t feel it doubts begin to nag at you. My prayers through out the morning were often inquiries of, “God, where are you? I need to see you, to feel you…” In the midst of this seeking, my Jay approached me with the somber face that told me he had a very important question. “Mom, is God here?” His little voice caught me off guard and I had to catch my breath for a moment. Could a three year old read my thoughts? “Yes Jay, He is absolutely right here with us.” The unwavering sound to my voice surprised me. There was no hesitation whatsoever. I remember in that moment wanting nothing more than to get the truth of what I was saying to penetrate Jay’s mind and embed itself there.

Jay scrunched up his face the way he does when he is really contemplating something. “Mom, is God in my room too?” I had to smile at the innocence being displayed. These things are hard enough for adults to get their minds around. At age three it must seem awfully confusing. “Yes Jay”, I replied, “He’s in your room too.” Jay had experienced some bad dreams the night before and obviously remembered the reassurances from Dave and I of His friend Jesus being right with him in his room as we calmed him down. “Mom, I want to show you something!” Suddenly Jay’s face was alive with smiles and determination. He grabbed my hand and nearly pulled me towards the steps. I followed him to the bedroom he shares with K and stopped at the spot he guided me to. Right in front of the beautifully framed collage of pictures documenting our last couple of days with baby J.D. My mind wondered what he could possibly be thinking. I didn’t have to wait long. In true little boy style he started right in. “Mom, was God here too?” He questioned as he pointed to a photo of me and Dave in the NICU the day that J.D. died. I swallowed hard as it began to become very evident that Jay was being used to present something profound. It’s you God…This is you showing up. In your way, in your time. “Yes Jay, he was there.” I said it softly, almost to myself. “But we can’t see him in the pictures can we mom?” I love the face scrunch! The more he concentrates on something the more his face scrunches and it is the sweetest thing! “But he’s still there…even though he doesn’t show up in pictures.” This was not a question. Jay stated it in complete confidence. After that final declaration he was all set. His now relaxed face smiled a simple and contented smile and he walked downstairs - ready to move on to Elmo and popsicles. Transitioning so quickly from messenger of the truth to tormentor of the brothers. I, however, did not recover and move on so quickly. I laid my forehead against the wall next to the photo collage. The wall was cool against my warm skin and felt refreshing. How could a three year old have just met a deep longing that he couldn’t even begin to understand? It was God. Jay was the catalyst for something so much bigger than he was – than any of us are.

Even when we don't feel it, can't see it, He is always there. Some times in the midst of a heartbreaking season we strive to simply function. Any thing beyond that seems to be stretching us to the limit - if not impossible. But He's there. Sometimes we long for something tangible. We want him to show up in pictures. It is usually in looking back that we see him in the pictures of our mind. We remember the night we cried our self to sleep and the image implanted in our memory is one of our weary body being held Safely in the arms of our comforter.

Today the voice of truth began to break through.