Sometimes, I find myself waiting for THAT moment, the one when KK or Randa tell me she wants to, as we say in Christianese, ask Jesus into her heart.

Tonight, while flipping through a book of Bible stories, KK said:

KK: I want to see God. And I want to meet Jesus.

Me: Do you want to go to Heaven someday?


KK: Well, I don’t want to *live* with Him. When someone is older and they go, maybe I can go with them. That would be appropriate.

My heart leapt a little at the start of this exchange, but instead of rushing in to say, “”KK, do you want to pray?” and leading her through a rote prayer to repeat, I waited. I let her talk. And I realize her understanding is fragile, but is growing.

– Two years ago, during a Palm Sunday service, she swayed in front of an altar, oblivious to everyone around her, waving her palm. When I picked her up, her heart was racing.

– When she knows she has done something wrong, like tell a lie or hit her sister, she cries. Immediately.

– Not every Sunday, but many, she asks me to go to the altar to pray. Sometimes she doesn’t do much but hug me. Sometimes she asks me to pray for her. And sometimes, she asks to pray for others.

Through my 4 year old, I am learning – no, I am seeing, that coming to a relationship, a Savior-to-Sinner, Father-to-Child, real relationship with Christ, is not a moment like I was taught it was or like I’ve always thought it was. It is a growing process, like eyes slowly opening, like arms arms slowly encircling, like a voice getting steadier and louder. I know it is not the same for every person as they come to grasp their faith, but for my youngest child, I will only need to show her, to guide her, to join her; but I will not need to prompt her – she will prompt me.

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