As I sat in a booth at Dairy Queen, waiting on my food to be served to me, I prayed: “Father, won’t you come dine with me? Sit with me and speak with me while I eat what you’ve provided?”
I raised my head, and wouldn’t you know it, about twenty four-year-olds gathered in the booths beside me. No wonder my food was so long in coming! They were preparing fries, hotdogs, and drinks for them!
Beautiful dimples and a big smile on the face of a little blonde princess stared questioningly at me. “Hi. I’m Amanda. What’s your name?” I thought she was overly trusting and that her parents ought to teach her not to speak to strangers.
“My name’s Treava, Amanda. How old are you?”
“Four! My birthday is in June!”
Two of the other three children grouped at the booth with her began carrying on a conversation with me. I heard all about their parents, their pets, their friends... all the little trivial details of their lives. I’d never seen such trusting children.
The other child stared down at her food and picked at it. She was a shy one. She reminded me a whole lot of somebody I used to know. I wondered what might have made her so skittish.
God spoke something sweet into my spirit that day. “You asked me to dine with you. Well, here I am. This is who I am. You can find me in the heart of a child. You can find me in the gentle kiss of a breeze. In all your wonder and awe of my greatness and my power, do not fail to recognize me in the simple joys of life, in the pennies, in the wildflowers, in the delicate flutter of a butterfly.”
Create in me a clean heart,
Renew a right spirit within me:
the heart of an innocent child,
the spirit of one who trusts you wholeheartedly.
Discipline me with a firm, but loving hand.
Teach me to discern a kind heart when I meet it.
Let me come to you,
just as you command that I should,
like a child waiting
for you to say to me,
“Really? That’s cool!
I’m really proud of you!”
Isn’t that what you meant, Lord,
when you said you’d tell me, one day,
“Well done, my good and faithful servant?”
Will you be really proud of me?
Thank you for those pennies,
wildflowers and butterflies.
Thank you for the children.
Thank you for being you.
And thank you for dining
with the likes of me,
though my heart is not always
like a child’s.
© Joyce Pool 06/20/04
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