For a Tuesday smile, following are some interactions of children with their grandparents:

My young grandson called the other day to wish me Happy Birthday. He asked me how old I was. I said, 80. My grandson was quiet for a moment then he asked: “Did you start at 1?”

My grandson was visiting one day when he asked, “Grandma, do you know how you and God are alike?” I mentally polished my halo, and asked, “No. How are we alike?” He said, “You’re both really old.”

When my grandson Billy and I entered our vacation cabin, we kept the lights off until we were inside to avoid attracting pesky insects. Still, a few fireflies followed us in. Noticing them before I did, Billy whispered, “It’s no use, Grandpa. Now the mosquitoes are coming after us with flashlights.”

A six-year-old was asked where his grandma lived. “Oh,” he said. “She lives at the airport, and when we want her, we just go get her. Then, when we’re done having her visit, we take her back to the airport.”

It may be that you have some gems of your own you could share (if so, please be my guest). 

What I find to be most charming and disarming at the same time, in all the above, is the innocence expressed with no trace of malice, even if a few haloes do happen to get bent. Simple, open-eyed, childlike naïveté. Having just spoken about the magnitude of God’s love for us, I’m left feeling a bit like a six-year-old with limited vocabulary and even more limited understanding. Reflecting on the language I used, I’m a tad embarrassed about its paltry nature. (but I really tried!) Here’s the exciting bit! I think God, like grandparents the world over, is actually so over the moon with any and every interaction with us, His little ones, that he tucks away our misperceptions and wrong interpretations as precious precursors of the nascent agapé relationship-in-progress. When Jesus called out a little child as the primo example of a Kingdom of Heaven resident, he upended the disciples’ perceptions (and ours!?) and extended his great invitation to all of us. So, maybe, when Jesus was listening to my childlike attempt at waxing eloquent about his love, he just grinned at my youthful stumbling, and tucked it away in the scrapbook he’s keeping. The one with my name on it.  PD

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