Out of the Mouths of Babes

Ryan is not the most naturally obedient or reverent (it's just the truth) of my children. He likes to push the boundaries and question rather boldly what some of my other children accept as fact. This can be trying at times, and sometimes I even wonder, in mother-fashion, where is heart is and where it will end up. But every once in awhile, he shows us a glimpse of the inner workings of his mind and heart, and what we see leaves us speechless.

This past Sunday morning, I encouraged Ryan, along with the other kids, to wish Dave a Happy Father's Day. They all started to pile on Dave, but Ryan stopped and challenged, not a little reproachfully, "But I thought God was our father!"

After a moment of stunned silence, I offered an explanation, but he wasn't satisfied with any of it, so I finally suggested he just wish Dave a "Happy Dad's Day," and that seemed to be acceptable. But what incredible theology, expressed with simple conviction, from a four year-old!

Later in the week, and just a couple nights ago, I tucked him in bed and was saying my good-nights while leaving, when he called me back to his bed.

"I have a secret to tell you," he said, so I leaned close to him. "I had a dream about God."

Now sometimes, he invents some rather elaborate dreams, so I'm sure I assumed a bemused expression as I asked him, "Oh really? What did he look like?"

Ryan smiled serenely. "He looked like a father."

If I was indeed wearing that bemused expression, it vanished, washed away by a flood of some powerful unnamed emotion - and tears that instantly sprang to my eyes. I couldn't say anything, but Ryan added matter-of-factly, "Yeah. He loves me."

I think that says it all.