“We should be astonished at the goodness of God, stunned that He should bother to call us by name, our mouths wide open at His love, bewildered that at this very moment we are standing on holy ground.”
“I’m gonna be talking to God now,” Ev begins, plopping down next to me with his bible.
“Could you FaceTime God for me please, Mama? So I can talk to him all I want?”
Looking down at him I want to explain to him how God can’t be seen, how he has no face to FaceTime, how God is spirit and not flesh. But then I look into his eyes and catch a glimpse of his little concrete, lifeisblackandwhite, Godisasrealasmyblankie soul, and I tell him I’m not on wifi so I can’t FaceTime. It’s true, of course, but I don’t think he really understands how this works. He accepts the words as reality. No wifi, no FaceTime, he’s heard me say it many times before.
He’s also heard me talk to God–yes, out loud–don’t judge me. In fact, I talk about God (as well as to God) all the time. Ev has seen me question God in difficult situations. Yes, I even do that out loud. God is a part of our world and everyday conversations.
Now I know there may be some who might roll their eyes right about belief in an unseen God.
I encourage you to not throw away the story yet. If you’ve made it this far, I can tell you the best is yet to come.
The truth is, I don’t always believe; I struggle in the here and now to believe that God is at work, forming and shaping people into more compassionate, more loving, kinder beings. I don’t even have to wait to read or hear about the evils happening everywhere in the world; I can simply interact with some who call themselves Christian and see the struggle with darkness.
Even though I personally have experienced the comforting presence and powerful peace of God in my own life, I still struggle when faced with what seems to be total darkness.
Ev is my constant reminder that miracles can happen and light can shine into the darkness when whispered wishes muttered mantralike in the still of night are heard as prayers by God.
He is listening. He is listening.
In real time, Ev has easily accepted the fact that he can’t FaceTime God right now and has moved on to a story.
He plants his face two inches from mine, not realizing, of course, the closer he is, the blurrier he looks to my old eyes: “Let me tell you a story about God, Mama. Ok?”
Ev probably thinks I need to hear a God story because I was frustrated with him last week for washing his his Hot-wheels in his bed. He filled a container with water and had a grand old time slipping and sliding with water all over his mattress.
At least he had a grand time until I walked in and the party was over…in a New York minute.
Ev begins his story without waiting for my go ahead: “God loves you. He loves you when you are naughty. He loves you when you are sleeping. He loves you when you are pitching a fit. He loves you when you are sitting in the stairs after you pitch a fit.”
“Really! It’s true mama!” He looks up at me with those big blue eyes and nods his head vigorously.
“God loves you all the time. He loves you more than the sun and the moon and the stars and all the stuff he created. Isn’t that a wonderful story mom?”
It sure is, I think to myself.
The Little Wonder amazes me once again with his ability to catch on to abstract ideas even when they are not intentionally being directed his way.
Ev is my personal reminder that God loves me.
No matter what.
Even when I pitch a fit.
God gave me Ev in one of the darkest junctures of my life, and the light from my Little Wonder hasn’t stopped shining yet.
Every day I am reminded of God’s love when I look into Ev’s shining eyes.
Every day I am grateful for Ev’s life–born out of deep sorrow, lived out in pure joy.
Every. Single. Day.