My daughter humbles me. She has an understanding of who God is that is unadulterated by any personal agenda, any past experiences and any un-repented transgression. She takes Him at his word, with child-like trust, and believes He is exactly what she has been taught He is. No doubts, no questions, no suspicions.
Yesterday she and her little friend M. were sitting down to watch a movie while M.’s mom and I chatted in the kitchen. In an unusual move she didn’t pick a princess movie when I gave her the choice but took instead The Lion King.
I was surprised because she had not seen this movie in a while. When she was younger she had a love-hate relationship with Simba, Mufasa, and Scar. She loved, loved, loved the movie but would only watch the scary parts holding on to one of us. She would bury her face in her daddy’s chest but refuse vehemently when we asked if we should turn it off. As she got older and traded her animals-dressed-as-people stage for baby dolls, so did her taste in movies shift to princesses and fairies, and she had not asked to see Lion King in a while.
When M. found out what movie they would be watching she voiced similar concerns to those Isabel had had in the past about the story:
-“But the Lion King has Scar and Scar is scary!”
And here I was humbled. My little girl replied with a smile on her face:
-“But we don’t have to be scared. God will take care of us. Don’t you know?”
Don’t you know?
I know, don’t I? It is what I tell her when she is worried and we sing God is bigger than the boogie man. I know. It is what I say to her when she is afraid to walk from her bed to the potty in the middle of the night. I know.
I know until…the doctor tells us a biological child is not likely to happen for us.
I know until… God calls me to quit my job and stay home with my children and the budget doesn’t add up.
I know until…my friend is diagnosed with terminal cancer at 15.
I know until…something happens to stir my world around and to take away from me all the illusion of control.
I know until…
…and then I don’t know. Then I panic. Then my faith slips through my fingers like water. Then it’s hard to look at someone and ask “don’t you know?”
…Isabel and Noah happen.
… a job from home happens.
…my friends’ parents reconnect with Christ in the sorrow of her loss.
…God shows up.
Over and over again. God shows up. I know. I’ve seen. I’ve experienced.
And yet, this four-year-old with seemingly no life-experience to speak of or tangible answers to prayer to show for, trusts God’s care wholeheartedly. She, who does not have volumes and volumes of journals recording all the times God has shown up; she, who doesn’t have story after story of God-ordained moments that saved the day; she, who in her short existence cannot look back and marvel at God’s constant hand over her life. She can ask confidently: “don’t you know?”
One day I will be like her.
One day maybe I will have faith like a child.