{Everything I Needed to Know I Learned From a Six-Year-Old}

She says what she thinks. Sometimes it's embarrassing. Sometimes it causes me to immediately turn around and seek a different aisle in the grocery store, lest we pass someone who might bear the brunt of her candor.

And sometimes she speaks wisdom. Like a perfectly outlined sermon, my six-year-old has recently set before me three points that I just can't get out of my mind. Perhaps the Lord is speaking to me? You know how it goes, "Out of the mouths of babes . . . ."

So if you'll allow me, here's a bit of gospel preachin'. From a first grader.

1. Contentment
The other day, Miss Kate was perched on the bathroom counter as I rolled up her hair in sponge curlers. She loves this ritual and would probably sit through it daily if I had the patience for it. As we rolled and she gabbed, she gazed at herself in the mirror and in a very matter-of-fact manner declared, "I like being me."

It was cute and sweet and earth shattering at the same time. Not everyone can say this about themselves. But when we acknowledge that we've been created in His image and when we seek to live in that perfect design for our lives, we can truly begin to say that we like who we are. This is the key to contentment.


2. Dependence
She really wanted to pour her own milk. From the completely full gallon jug. I said okay. It sloshed and spilled and she very quickly realized that help was in order. She wasn't discouraged or frustrated. She simply set down that jug and asked for help with the admission, "I'm still not quite capable." How easy was that? And again, very eye-opening as I completed the milk-pouring mission.


3. Trust
We were walking through the park when she announced that she really needed to use the restroom. Now. Thankfully, there were a number of public restrooms nearby. It was quite discouraging, however, to find that they were locked. She danced and wiggled. I knew that there was another restroom across the park, behind a large cluster of trees. I promised my fidgety girl that I'd get her to the next stop, although it was a bit of a walk. She peered ahead then looked up with complete trust in her sparkly blue eyes. "I don't see it, but I believe you." She grabbed my hand and stepped forward.

Amen.

In review.

* The key to contentment? Be thankful for you.

* The cure for pride? (Lest we get too carried away with point one . . .) Admit that you're not capable on your own.

* The best way to walk? In complete trust. He sees beyond the trees. (Aren't you glad?)

And now if you'll please stand for the benediction: "May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit. Amen."

You are dismissed.

The Spark

Yesterday I was seized by "The Spark." This is the name that my mother has given to the condition that suddenly comes over a person, filling them with the desire to attack a less than desirable duty. Such as cleaning the garage. My experience has been that the garage is not a warm and comfortable place to hang out. One does not naturally keep things orderly and quaint and bedecked with eye-catching trinkets. Indeed it requires nothing less than The Spark to whip such a beast into shape.

Well yesterday, I whipped. We've lived here for over a year, and I figured it was about time to finally eliminate those last few, nay, several boxes that have been filled with who-knows-what for who-knows-how-long. Such as the bag of paperback book remnants that I discovered. I have a hard time throwing things away that might one day prove to be useful. I must have convinced myself years ago that loose pages from an old Thomas the Tank Engine book might eventually come in handy. Perhaps for a collage. Or a lovely notecard. You just never know.

My former Thomas fan is no longer four. He's thirteen. Boy it felt good to toss that bag into the recycling bin.

This "spark" which led to a clean garage was, er, sparked by a new determination: I want to be content with my surroundings. Novel, huh? Let me explain. We've rented for years and will likely be renting for at least a few more years down the line. Because renting feels so temporary to me, however, I have a hard time embracing. I don't appreciate what I have. Instead I look ahead and place my hopes and dreams on a future home that doesn't even exist. I decorate something that is only in my mind.

It recently dawned on me that this is the only childhood that my kids will look back on. (I'm slow, but I do catch on.) They don't care whether we rent or own. They just want a home. They want to feel safe, loved and content. And they'll sense that safety, love and contentment as long as it comes from their own mama. No matter where they live.

We've been blessed with a lovely, comfortable home. It's time to settle. To use that "spark" as a starting point for maintaining peace and focusing on contentment. As I tend to this home and the lives within, I desire to love the here and now and to see the beauty before me. I want to embrace and embellish my surroundings with love, creating a warm haven that ministers to all who enter.

P.S. It's not too late to retrieve the Thomas pages. Anyone wanna make a collage?