It’s strange to me that often, the truth we need to hear, is a truth we’ve once spoken. As a writer a struggle to revisit old works. But a series of unfortunate events (not really unfortunate) led me to this piece this morning. I will leave out why I needed to hear it, suffice it to say that I did. Hopefully it will be the beginning of a “godversation” for you today.

Mommy’s Log: 3-12-2010

I have long suspected that God gave me children to draw me closer to Himself. The object lessons of pregnancy and early motherhood were apparent to me. Pregnancy taught me the essence of faith: hoping for what we don’t see. Having a newborn taught me selflessness: giving in whole-hearted joy with no promise of return. Of course this was in addition to the far more practical lessons about the liability of pets, production of breast milk and thriving in chaos.  Lately my learning has come in the form of blatant conversations with my three-year old that I’ve dubbed them “godversations”.

One such conversation came when Cainen decided to mimic his friend by calling me by my first name. I began to address it as a subtle form of disrespect. “Why?” was inevitably his response to my rebuke and in answering I saw a deeper truth.  “Cainen, they call me Miss Aroea because they are not my children. But you are my child and that is special so you have a special name for me.”

A pregnant silence.

How often do I address my heavenly father in a manner that is unfamiliar? Salvation is nothing less than the holy gift of son-ship “by which we cry Abba, Father!”? Cainen had forsaken my blessed title out of mere play but for me… it goes deeper. I often address God in an unfamiliar fashion because on some level I have rejected Him as a father; preferring the safety of distant deity to the vulnerability of relationship. How deeply that must sting His heart.

Two days later I found myself in another Q&A session. It was my “bible time” and Cainen was on the floor playing while Jonas napped. I had no more than sat down when he inquired as to why I was “always” reading my Bible (making me sound much more diligent than I am). There’s nothing like an honest question that you can’t answer philosophically to make you examine why you do something. I thought for a second… “You know how sometimes you get your hands dirty and you need to wash them? Well, sometimes my heart gets dirty and I can’t wash it with water so I have to read my Bible. It helps me keep my heart clean because it tells me that God loves me. Then I don’t get frustrated and naughty and then it’s a nice place for Jesus to live.”

“Yeah,” He replied “But why is Jesus always at our home?”

Uhh… “Because He loves you Cainen. He wants to be around us all the time because He loves us.”

“Yeah. God loves me so much. But… but why can’t I see him with my eyes?”

Oh good Lord child! Fortunately God wanted me to know the answer as much as I wanted Cainen to. “Cainen God is so special that we cannot see him with our eyes. We have to use our heart. That why sometimes I close my eyes when I pray because then it’s easier to see Him with my heart.” Oh, yeah. That is why I read my Bible, and He really does love me and… that is why I can’t see him.

Looking back, these two instances were nearly a fullfillment of one of an earlier “godversation”. From the backseat of the car Cainen had started spouting truth about Jesus that neither Kevin and I had really discussed with him. My husband began to inquire as to “how” Cainen knew these things. The child was indignant. “Dad! You know God speaks to our hearts.” I cannot say that moment was anything other than a divine encounter. It was so innocent and true. God does speak to our hearts. He will teach us and tell us the truth if we will listen. And sometimes He’ll even use little “godversations” to do it.

3 thoughts on “Godversations

  1. I love this Aroea. As Jesus-loving parents, it’s humbling to realize that God is teaching our children by the Holy Spirit. And yet empowering, because we can agree with that in prayer–which sometimes means staying out of the way! Not trying to control everything our children learn, working instead to foster open hearts in them. And freeing, too, to understand that we do not bear the burden of their learning alone. And then to know that through prayer we don’t ever need to feel helpless, we can even pray for that process for children whose lives brush up into ours.

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