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I spent seven hours driving to the beach today, with both my kids. Seven hours of Toby Mac and Britt Nicole and potty breaks every hour because the almost four year-old really, really loves lemonade.
And mommy really, really loves coffee.
We found the beach as quickly as possible. I sat on the shore and soaked in everything around me. There was one small cloud in the sky, and the breeze refueled me. I dug my toes in the sand, unconcerned about ruining my homemade impromptu pedicure.
The kids charged toward the ocean like a long-lost cousin and spent moments that stretched into days laughing and jumping waves. I watched them play and laugh and swim and then I became a little undone.
There’s a lot my kids teach me about being. About embracing every moment with arms outstretched, and squeezing every drop of life out of it. About being unconcerned with the opinions of others; about simply being who they are. They teach me these things when I escape my normal and see from a fresh perspective. They’ve got this faith and being thing down, I think, and I’m often envious of them.
Call it naivety or immaturity — but I wonder if childlike faith isn’t just something you possess about God, but something you possess about who you are? What if childlike faith is so much faith in God and who He is, that you trust who He created you to be? And what if it made you so free you skip and hop and jump waves and shriek with delight?
I don’t know…to me that would feel as awesome as entering the kingdom of Heaven on Earth.
Jesus rebuked His disciples for keeping children away and said not to hinder them from going to Him. But you know what? Most of the time, I’m the one hindering myself. No one has to intervene and do it for me.
I’m going to attempt childlike faith the next few days. Faith in God, who He is and who He created. And I’m going to try my hardest to go to him and enter that kingdom of heaven.