It’s a beautiful thing to see life through the eyes of a two year old. They have a way of reminding us of the wonder and whimsy to be found in the world. This is the story of the day a girl named Sophie* showed me the gracious heart of the Father.
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Yesterday, we were supposed to teach English to Roma children, but they never showed up to the church. Instead, I spent the morning with Sophie. Sophie is the two year old daughter of one of our ministry contacts. She has cornflower blue eyes and the most precious blond curls you have ever seen. Sophie was fascinated by opening and closing the door to the Hub over and over again. She discovered the watch on my wrist and with great concentration, tried to work the clasp. We unscrewed the lid on my Nalgene more times than I can count.
All of a sudden, she remembered the flowers she had picked earlier with Lizete. She proudly had given me the yellow blooms she had plucked. Now, she grabbed my hand and asked to go to the flowers again. When we arrived at the yellow mums, she began jabbering away in her excited two-year-old chatter. She touched them, telling me about the leaves and pointing out the flowers. As we talked, I asked her what color the flowers were.
“Pink,” she cried in here little sing-song voice.
“No, they’re not pink,” I said, and encouraged her to guess again.
“Red!” was her next guess.
“Almost. They’re yellow!” With a little giggle, she told me yellow. We revisited the yellow mums at least half a dozen times that morning. Each time I asked Sophie what color the flowers were she chirped, “Pink!” or “Red!” After a game of tickle monster and a piggy back ride, she snuggled into my lap with her blankie and fell asleep. My heart was full.
As I sat against the building holding Sophie, I asked the Lord what His heart was in that moment. The Race has been hard. It’s been a season of refinement. I’m being stripped bare of everything: who I thought I was, who I thought God was, and how I look at life. It’s ugly, it’s messy, and I’m tired. But in that moment, with a two year old snuggled in my lap, Jesus reminded me of something. He loves me all the time, even when I’m like Sophie.
I feel like Sophie a lot. I hate that I continually need to be reminded of the same truth over and over again because I just can’t seem to get it right. I feel like I keep shouting “Pink!” and “Red!” when the answer is actually “Yellow”.
Truth be told, I usually feel shameful in those moments.
However, in those moments, the Father doesn’t look on me with irritation or disappointment. Just like I wouldn’t be mad at a two year old for not knowing all her colors, He’s not angry or frustrated when He has to remind me one more time. The Father has an abundance of grace for me and he loves to generously lavish it on me.
This season has been hard, and some days I feel like I’m stuck and struggling to surrender to the Lord. But I’m learning He’s incredibly patient and will continue to remind me of His truth, no matter how long it takes. It’s part of the process, and He’s pleased that I’m choosing to say yes.
And He’s not even a little mad when I need Him to whisper, “Yellow” one more time.
*Names have been changed to protect our little friend 🙂
