Catching up with my little me

Do you ever feel like you're catching up with your child self? The one that dreamed and received love so easily?

The one that thought people would, of course, be kind?

When I was little, I loved meeting new people. I drew outside the lines. I sang outside for hours and fell asleep to the radio at night. I wrote songs and poems about what I loved.

There was wonder in an acorn and glory in soft grass.

I gave big hugs and nibbled dessert to make it last forever.

I talked to God on the swingset and let my toes touch the sky. I asked God who His mother was and where did the sky end and heaven start?

I waited on the front steps for my daddy to come home from work. There was never a thought of him not coming, or of me giving up waiting.

I took my wounds to my mommy and never doubted her ability to make life better.

I learned my doctrine from good hymns and sang my heart out.

I prayed at the altar once till everyone was gone and the whole evening service waited for me. While it was mortifying to walk back to my pew on my little legs, I wondered how in the world people had so little to talk to God about that they were done at the altar so quickly.

But somewhere in the growing up, I was taught that being good at your gifts could be very lonely. I am, in some ways, just now catching back up to my skill level when I was in junior high. I couldn't wait to try harder things than I was ready for, and did it somehow.

Matthew 18.

I keep going back to it.

Who's the greatest in the kingdom, they asked.

And the Teacher pulled a little child... not a big one, a little one.

"Unless you CHANGE and BECOME like this little child, you won't even SEE the kingdom of heaven."

I could unpack this one sentence for days.

I've written about this before, but that phrase "unless you change..." keeps scrolling by. Somehow, I've grown up. I've quit singing.

Sure, we've written musicals and worship songs, but I don't sing anymore. What happened to my swingset? It's almost as if we think it's not worth singing once we give up our solos and teams and features... That's just sad.

So, Lord, change me? Let me be someone who sings out loud, dreams into the clouds, draws and paints what I love for the fun of it. The child who knows her daddy will come and take care of her.

The little one who isn't ashamed if she falls asleep in his arms while they are talking.

Sweet dreams,

Lydia C

©2019 Lydia D Crouch