her beginning

That night, we snuggled together just as we do every night. She lay next to me, her long dark hair streaming over her pillow, hugging her lovey. I smoothed her hair back away from her forehead as she chatted about what she wanted for breakfast the next day. "Eggs, oatmeal, cereal, yogurt...." (we love big breakfasts!).
 I never know when these seasons will come to an end, these times of snuggling and loving with such sweet ritual. I wonder when she will not care whether or not I sing the Goodnight Song to her (with the wrong words!) or give her "kissies." Even though tucking in the kids takes over an hour, it is worth the time. They will never be this young again. I want to savor the soft cheeks, the whispered secrets, the longing for closeness. Because in time, I also want to be able to respect their need for space (ouch, that smarts!).
And the opportunities for relationship will not always present themselves so easily.
That night, we did our usual routine. And then she asked about her sister. Not her baby sister who grabs her toys and wrecks her dollhouse. Or her older sister, who fluctuates between wanting to play Littlest Pet shop together and yelling out in irritation towards her. But the one whose name I wrote in the sand at a beach in Tampa.
With a dried piece of seaweed, I swept a shallow trench in lines and curves until they formed her name, Evelyn. The work itself was my memorial, or at least one of my many ways of remembering. I stood back and breathed in the salty air. Then I brought my camera up to my vision, focused and remembered again. And now the picture hangs among the many pictures of friends and family on my refrigerator.
She was less than a year old when I had to wean her. I was pregnant again, and tired. She was just over a year when we buried Evelyn and her ignorance of the sadness of that season was another of God's tender mercies to us-- her shrieks of laughter and unaffected delight that she brought to that time became a balm to our wounded hearts.
A few weeks ago, I casually mentioned to her that she had a sister named Evelyn. I was surprised to discover that following that conversation, she would bring up Evelyn repeatedly. "Where is she?" "Is she sick?" "Can I see her?"
Over the last few weeks, I have been amazed at the understanding that an almost four-year-old can exhibit in matters that we term "abstract." She talked about Evelyn being in heaven with Jesus, she prayed that Jesus would "heal my sister Evelyn." And then she talked more about Jesus, how He died for her so that she didn't have to die.
That night, as I stroked her hair and sang, she asked me again about Evelyn. "Is Evelyn in heaven?"
"Yes, honey, she is with Jesus." (This is what we believe, that all children before an age in which they will be held accountable for their decision to accept or reject Christ, are under grace. (see 2 Samuel 12:22).
Then for the next twenty minutes, my toddler asked me question after question about Jesus, heaven, Evelyn, Christ's death, life: "Is Evelyn sick? Did Jesus heal her? Is she with Jesus? Is she in heaven? Where is heaven? What is heaven like? Can I go there?
And some poignant observations:
"Jesus died so that I didn't have to die. If I died, He would be very sad."
"Jesus made Evelyn all better. Is she happy now?"
After some time, I asked her if she wanted to talk to Daddy too. My intuition told me that something very special was happening and that it was an opportunity for Steve to share in this time.
Her thought process was certainly leading up to a moment that all of us come to at some point in our lives. And for her, with a child's mind, all that we had discussed was so tangible and attainable with her childlike faith. For some of us who have grown up, things of faith and of a spiritual nature have been swept to another realm which we have been taught is separate from reason and fact. For my little one that night, the decision she was about to make was purely reasonable.
"Honey, after all we've talked about, do you want to ask Jesus to live in you heart?" asked my husband softly, as he lay next to her.
She bounced on the bed, her eyes gleaming with certainty.
"Yes!"
"Do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God?"
"Yes!"
"Do you believe that He died on the cross for you and that he rose again?"
"Yes!"
"Do you believe that you are a sinner- that means that you do things that hurt God's heart- and that Jesus has forgiven all of your sins?"
"Yes!" (We had talked extensively about the blood, both literally in relation to the Israelites painting blood over the doorposts so that the Angel of Death would pass-over their home and also of the blood of Christ that cleansed her sins, both literally and now symbolically. In her concrete mind, she astutely observed that we didn't have blood on our doorposts and that we needed to, which led to more conversation!).
"Do you want to pray with us and ask Jesus to be your Savior?"
"Yes!"
And so we did.
And with that, the multitudes of angels in heaven are rejoicing, for another of His children's names have been added to the Book of Life.
And in my jaded adult mind, I wondered what exactly that conversation meant for her and if it was "real."
Yet the Bible has no mention of a "three step plan of salvation," or of a "sinner's prayer." We know that Romans 10:9 says that if we confess with our mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in our hearts that God raised Him from the dead, we will be saved. To the woman who anointed Christ's feet with perfume and tears, Christ said, "Your faith has saved you." And the prisoner who sympathized with Christ was told that he would that day be with Christ in paradise.
God knows whose are His.
So with this blog and in my journal at home, I have recorded May 14, 2012 as the day when our third child began her lifelong walk of faith with her Savior.
"Now can I go to heaven, Mommy?"
"No, sweetie. Only God knows when. And it will be just the right time."
"Then I'll see Evelyn too?"
"Yes, honey, you'll see your sister, too."
To God be all the glory,
Who creates beauty
From the ashes...