“How did the baby get out?”

Day 137

Nothing shakes up a session with a five year old client like this question:

“How did the baby get out?”

So, there I am, with . . . hmm. Let’s call him Charlie. Working on pronouns. Subjective pronouns. You know, like he and she. We have Richard Scarry’s book What Do People Do All Day? (which I highly recommend – it’s one of my favorite books from my childhood) and are discussing “what he is doing” and “what she is doing”. Things are going well. Charlie is catching on. Then, we turn to the page with the little bunny who goes to  the hospital to have her tonsils out. While she is getting her tonsils out, her mommy has a baby! There’s a darling picture of Sister Bunny at Mommy Bunny’s bedside with Baby Bunny. Oh, so sweet. Then . . .

“How did the baby get out?”

(Pause) “Uh . . . (hoping I heard incorrectly) what?”

“How did the baby get out?”

“Well . . . (frantically wracking brain for correct response) um . . . the mommy came to the hospital and had the baby.”

“But how did the baby get out?”

“It was just . . . born . . . at the hospital. (One of the most cop-out-ly answers ever.) And now the little girl bunny has a new baby sister. Isn’t that so nice? (This part spoken with a very fast rate of speech as I turn the page.) Oh, Charlie, look! Some people are going on a train trip. What is he doing?”(Annnd we are back on track. No pun intended.)

Life’s an adventure. You just never know when a kid will try to get a biology lesson out of a pronoun drill.

Onward.

“Day by day and with each passing moment/Strength I find to meet my trials here/Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment/I’ve no cause for worry or for fear/He whose heart is kind beyond all measure/Gives unto each day what he deems best/ Lovingly, it’s part of pain and pleasure/Mingling toil with peace and rest.”

Lately (as in the past several months), the attribute of God that has been most sweet to me is his kindness. He is a kind God. He is kinder to me than I will ever be able to understand. When I face trials, I love to think that my kind Father is allowing them, and not some ogre in the sky who just wants to make me miserable. I can trust a God who is infinitely kind even when he sends heartache my way, because I know he knows what’s best for me.

I would not be able to trust a god who I thought might turn on me at any moment if I screwed up, or a god who is just up in heaven playing with mankind’s lives like they were some kind of cosmic joke. People who don’t know my Father often think he is like that. By his grace, I know better.

I know that he is kind.