Each night, I kneel at Jayce’s bedside and there in the dark we take turns praying aloud. First me and then him. Most often he prays for the same things: blessings for Karamuka and Kimani (our sponsored Compassion children) and the new girl whose name he can’t remember, blessings for his sisters, blessings for grandparents and for Grandma’s dog, Cooper. But there are times, too, when his prayers reveal a sliver of his heart. Please help me learn how to make the snake (rainbow loom). Please bless Torri when she goes to work at Disney World. Those particular quiet prayers of his–the ones that expose his pressing wants and fears–those are my favorite to hear.
We pray aloud–in voices, not whispers. One night during our prayers last week, he stopped cold. He interrupted himself and whispered to me: when is Daddy coming home?
Daddy had been traveling for work and Jayce was praying for his safe return.
Thursday, I answered, and Jayce picked up where he’d left off. It wasn’t until later that his whispered interruption struck me. It was the same thing he’d do if he was relaying a story to a guest in our home and he needed to verify a detail with me mid-story. He’d stop and he’d whisper his question to me to confirm before continuing.
And so the other night–when he interrupted his prayers with a whispered question–the whisper was because he knew there to be a very present God right there in the the room with us. Looking around, his eyes would have seen only me there with him, yet still he knew we weren’t alone.
“Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all.” Mark 10:15
Faith like a child. Faith that knows there is more to this life than what our eyes can see. Faith that doesn’t question. Faith that doesn’t doubt.
I want to live like that.