As Little Children

In Matthew 18:3, Jesus tells us to “be as little children.”

As someone who has recently acquired a little child, I sometimes find this request puzzling. Like last week when Molly threw a fit because I wouldn’t let her wear her flamingo socks for the third day in a row. After twenty minutes of negotiating, I managed to distract her from the socks with a tutu.

But the other day, I was reading something else Jesus said, about coming to him when we are heavy laden, and the Psalm that asks us to go to Him with a broken heart and a contrite spirit. And I remember the time Molly was hurt after she shut her fingers in her drawer, and all the times she’s sad after her dad leaves for work, or when her mouth hurts from teething—every time, she turned straight to me. She comes up and grabs my legs or reaches up, and I hold her while she cries.

She knows exactly what to do with her broken heart—she brings it to me. And when she comes to me, she knows I’m going to comfort her. She expects a response. When she knocks, she knows I’m going to answer.

Right after Molly was born, in the midst of the lack of sleep and colic and feeding tube, I felt broken all the time. I was so at a loss when she wouldn’t eat, when she wouldn’t stop crying, when the doctors couldn’t tell us what was wrong. Somewhere in there, I started talking to God a lot more. Not long conversations. Not flowery or theological. But consistent and fervent. I went to God with everything, because I didn’t feel capable of handling anything on my own.

When I was in that space of sleep withdrawal and despair, it got to where I knew that when I asked, God would answer.

For most of my life, God hasn’t given me direct instructions. He didn’t tell me to move to Boston or marry Austin. There was no revelation saying that it was time to have a kid. But for that little while, he gave me answers. When Molly wouldn’t stop crying, I said, “Help, help, help,” and He told me to put her in the bath. She stopped crying immediately. When we were starting her on solid food and she would not let a spoon anywhere near her mouth, God said, “Let her be messy,” and glory, praises, the child ate. And when I said, “Please, please, let this be over,” He said, “Not yet. Not yet, but soon enough.” And, by a gift of the spirit, that was OK.

There are a lot of interpretations of what it means to be as a little child. I’m sure a lot of them are right. But every time I’ve thought about it recently, I’ve thought about the humility of asking for help as soon as you need it and knowing you’ll get an answer.