from the mouths of babes

We ride back from the Embassy, just me and my two baby girls. My hands tense around the wheel as a delivery van swerves from my right into my range of vision. It cuts across the breadth of my minivan then roars ahead towards the light that yellow, now red. As I suspected, it guns the distance through the light, clearly red, then screeches to a near stop as traffic slows ahead. My insides churn with anxiety and aggravation. Mostly aggravation. I know that I am usually tense in the city traffic, and recently, it has been getting to me.
Suddenly, I hear a voice from the backseat. My three year old is singing. Her voice is clear, unashamed. I slow to the red light and take a deep breath. I listen.

I'm singing a song to You,
You are always with me,
And I'm not alone.
Yes, you died on the cross,
You died on the cross
So that I didn't have to die on the cross,
I will love you all the day...
You are with me...

As I listen, my heart feels as if it is going to either burst from joy or break from deep conviction. We have family devotions almost every morning after breakfast and she has been pushing her Bible storybook on my lap almost every morning. "Mommy, read me a Bible story!"
When we got to the picture of Christ's crucifiction, she leaned forward from where she was sitting next to me on the couch and peered closely at the picture. Even in cartoon, the crown of thorns pushed into the Savior's head drew beads of blood. She sat back and with a downcast face, declared, "I don't want Jesus to die on the cross!"
I brushed my hand across her forehead, the thin scarlet line of her scar still a hard ridge on her soft skin. "He had to die, sweetie. It was the only way. He died so that we could live." I speak softly, almost whispering. She breathes, "Oh..."
And now, in the car, my precious baby sings out her praises to the God who died for her, so that she didn't have to die.
The verse comes to me and I am undone:

 From the lips of children and infants
you have ordained praise
because of your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger. (psalm 8:2)

And all of the strain of traffic and the harsh lines of the city fade away in my view.

How easy it is to get overwhelmed by what is right in front of me, to get distracted by petty irritations, day-to-day worries, fears of the future. How simple things would become if, in childlike trust, I chose instead to sing a song to Him.

Because if I don't praise Him, He will ordain praise even from babies. For just after Abby started singing, her one year old little sis began to hum in her small, sweet voice.

from the mouths of babes...

Soli Deo gloria