Today I’m watching my mom walk down to the stop sign on our street, my former cut-off point for bike rides (like… fifteen years ago) with a different set of children. Lil Boy rides in the stroller and Lil girl walks, holding my mom’s hand, which makes the going pretty slow. It’s adorable.

I’m watching them make their way back from my perch at the bar stools in our kitchen.


Sometimes I think that God made us as blank slates, to be written on by the life we’re given, or as clay to be molded and hardened into something useful. But then I look at these little ones, who decide to ride my guitar case like it’s a horse and pour buttons out on the floor and dance on them (even though I’ve never heard of anyone doing that before) and realize that we come with some sort of package.

“For you created my inmost being. You knit me together in my mother’s womb.”

For you gave me a creative mind and a zest for life that makes me want to dance and smile and giggle and speak in a language that no one can understand yet. For you set my mouth babbling and my eyes twinkling.

No one had to tell these little ones that strawberries are tasty and that a whole one can fit in your mouth if you cram it in there.

So maybe we’re not born with logic, like when Lil Girl starts eating the nail polish off of her fingers and you tell her not to do that, but she says, “But I need to.”

But the cuteness, the sweetness, the longing to discover new things and to hold someone’s hand while you prance around the room ( on the buttons, of course, all the while getting them stuck to your feet).

I think we were created to live outside the box, weren’t we?

Maybe that’s part of what Jesus meant when he said we should be like little children. Trusting, creative, sweet, and ready to dance.


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