Ask nicely

“Want loud!  Want Jesus Better loud!” – That’s how my favorite 3-year-old asks me to turn up the volume to his favorite song in the car.

“Ask nicely, buddy!” – That’s what I tell him.

“Please-may-I-have-Jesus-Better-loud -please.” – That’s his response.

The cuteness doesn’t really translate when you read that because you can’t hear the ridiculousness of his voice, but trust – it’s totes adorbs.  And no one in their right mind would say no.

Waiting

He’s good at waiting.

He’s been doing it since before the foundation of the world when He dreamed this whole thing up.

Waiting for the fullness of time.  Waiting for the moment of redemption in a billion different stories.  He’s waiting now.

He’s waiting for me to turn back from the pigpen, waiting for my shadowy figure to appear on the horizon, waiting to fling up His robes and run toward me.  He’s waiting for me to turn off the TV and open the letter He left me to tell me to assure me that I’m not alone no matter what it looks like.

toddlers and trash

Let me paint a little picture for you.

I’m sitting outside at a coffee shop/bar.  It’s one of those perfect Austin days (as long as you can hold your breath so that the allergies don’t silently destroy you).

A man just propped open the patio door with his body, making room for a chunky toddler to waddle out.   I’m not good with ages, but i’m guessing this little chubster was around 2.

Here’s hoping

The other day, a 3-year-old pointed me and said ‘Jesus!’.  After I made sure that Jesus was not physically in the room, I realized he could see the tattoo on my back that says ‘j’espere’.  (P.S. can I tell you that this kid is obviously a genius because he is three and he knows what the word ‘jesus’ looks like on paper) (P.P.S. my tattoo doesn’t actually say Jesus though, so he’s not like a super genius.)

J’espere may look like Jesus to the untrained eyes of a 3-year-old, but it actually means ‘I hope’ in french.

Worshipping pipes

No matter how you look at it, when you turn the faucet on, the water runs through the pipes.

The water is different from the pipes.  We are kept alive by the water.  We get it through the pipes.

I’m sure that distinction (the by vs. the through) doesn’t feel important.  But I have this theory that the brokenenss around you, your own sin, even the Fall of Mankind – are all linked to our inability to distinguish the through and the by.  IMG_0266