I sat on my couch reading until a loud “bang” caught my attention. I peered over the back of the couch into the entryway. My 2-year-old son, Caleb, was teaching his 3-year-old friend, Gracie, the new trick his older cousins taught him the night before: run full speed into the door with arms in face-blocking position and palms facing out. With a controlled bounce off the door, Caleb would fall backwards on his bottom and then laugh uncontrollably at his blunder. Gracie caught on rather quickly.
I sat and watched the two toddlers take turns running into the door, hitting it with a loud bang and then falling back onto their bottoms. As one performed, the other would watch while standing 3-inches away in anticipation. Once the backward fall was complete, the watchful toddler would erupt in a loud belly laugh.
Then, as if they were taking their cues from a hidden teleprompter, the audience toddler (while still laughing) would reenact the hilarious stunt while the other toddler took over the role of spectator. This went on for several flawless rounds. Each time a diaper-covered bottom hit the floor, the standing toddler would laugh as if seeing the trick for the first time.
The roaring laughter raised a few notches with every body-slam into the door and plop on the floor. As I watched them, joy welled up inside of me. Their intense laughter was so powerful; it almost brought me to tears. However, my laughter was limited from inside – not allowed to bubble to the top and burst out like the laughter I was witnessing.
Initially, I chalked it up as my adultness. I assumed my stifled laughter resulted from my lack of interest in watching toddlers fall down for humor. But soon I realized that all my worries from the day that I failed to release into the loving hands of my Savior had smothered the fire of laughter in my heart.
I realized at that moment that those two toddlers were much wiser than I. They were enjoying the moment so intensely because they had faith – faith that all their needs would be met and they were safe and loved. If they had faith in me, an imperfect person, how much more could I have faith in Jesus, who calls me to cast all my cares on Him because He cares for me?
“I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
– Matthew 18:3
“Thank you my Abba Father that You love me and care for me. You know the number of hairs on my head. I lay everything at your feet – my sin, my anxieties and my burdens. Help me to trust in You alone. Help me to offer my worries to You, starting with…”