The Protective Sweetness of Children

The world is in such need of children. Who that follows the news to any extent can deny it? The adult world of political chaos, church scandal, atrocities and injustice both at home and abroad weighs down the heart and makes it bitter. Even the most hopeful of optimists (which indeed I used to be prior to years spent working full-time in political and social movements) can become burdened with the bitterness and turn cynic.

Josephine and her best buddy watching the front yard.

It never ceased to amaze me through those years how quickly the oppression lifted when interacting with children. The ecstatic giggles of the girl whose nanny I was in college, the soft nuzzle of a friend's newborn, the wonder in the eyes of the little boy who used to live with us as he plucked his first strawberry from the garden. Children approach the world with a tenderness that can act like a shock to our adult sensibilities.

The past two weeks have been spent in quasi-isolation, since the whole family caught a virus which developed into croup for Josephine. Though it has meant a mountain of cancelled plans, unpredictable nap times and not one minute of freed hands while she is awake, it has also lead to many long walks in the woods, more intentional and cuddly story times, and an abundance of waltzes and two steps with her through the kitchen. In short, it forced me to turn inward upon our little family and soak in my daughter's sweetness, free from the stress and distraction of trying to hurry out the door.

Itty bitty Josephine.

What a sweetness it is! Every item both old and new is a fantastic discovery. Josephine finally took notice of the adorable rocking sheep which has resided in her nursery since before she was born, and attacks it with kisses and laughter after each and every nap. She is relentless in her affection, enthusiastically scaling the staircase just to smile at her daddy working at his desk, and she never shrinks from the eternal challenge of reaching the dog bowls (which she came within inches of achieving this morning). Her delight brings a levity to our home which eases the burden of the world outside, and the warm weight of her sleeping head on my chest is like a salve to my aching heart. It is no wonder then that Jesus instructs us to cultivate a childlike faith.

"Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." -Matthew 18:3-4

BIG smiles!

Perhaps it is her inherent and untested faith in the world, in humanity and in her own abilities which demonstrate this childlike faith. She trusts that the world is a beautiful creation, thus whatever is around the next bend in the trail is sure to be a wonder to behold. She trusts that the people around her love her and desire the best for her, so she has no qualms about climbing our legs and wiggling into our laps every chance she gets. She has yet to experience real limitations on her newfound abilities, so what is to stop her from charging up the stairs on her first try or launching herself into the empty bathtub headfirst? Though she lacks the words to express it, such faithful actions speak of an inherent and natural faith that God is good. The world needs much more of this sweetness of faith.

Throughout Josephine's short life I have encountered a number of challenges that have tempted me towards bitterness. Being poorly treated at the hands of medical professionals, the pain and helplessness of attempting to feeding her, my own ongoing health issues that have resulted from her birth could all easily shift from humbling to humiliating. Each moment of bitterness has been countered by many more moments of her sweetness, and her delicious little self forms a shield to keep my heart from hardening despite my own best efforts. Her little hands caressing my face, her little fingers exploring my own, the soft cooing of her hoarse little voice are protective against it all.

Holding my little girl in the dark rocking her to sleep last night, I meditated on the incarnation of God as a little child. First as a tiny embryo, unseen and invisible to the world. Then as a newborn with soft skin and the delicate scent of wispy baby hairs. Growing, He became like my little girl, fast-moving and fascinated, exploring the world He created through the eyes of a child. Expressing each stage of a child's wonder in cooing, laughing and eventually speaking. God chose to experience human childhood firsthand, which tells you of the tremendous importance of children. Jesus carried this sweetness into His ministry and instructed those He taught to do the same.

Our little olive wood nativity set from our pilgrimage to Bethlehem.