Existential conversations with my three-year-old

Lucy with Husky the dog, her current inseparable companion

Lucy still spends much of her time either being an animal (favorites right now: wolf cub, tiger or puppy) or talking to her army of stuffed animals. But more and more she also takes time to ponder her own history.  Many of her sentences begin, “When I was little…” or “When I was a baby…”.

Since I will sometimes tell her a story from my own childhood, she recently was trying to grasp how she fit into that scenario: “When you were a little girl, did you know me?”  No, Lucy, when I was a little girl, you were not alive yet. Your daddy was not alive yet.

(silence for a moment)

“When you were a little girl, I was pretendin’ to be dead?!”

——————-

We borrowed the new Disney movie, Frozen, from our neighbors this week, and have watched it at least four times now.

I was trying to discern how much of the plot Lucy really understood. We had a good conversation this evening about hurting others accidentally through our actions when we are upset or angry. Lucy had, in fact, pulled my hair quite hard when she was vexed about something (she was grabbing the stuffed tiger I was holding, and had not intended to pull my hair).  We talked about self-control, not lashing out when we’re angry, and about needing to apologize when we hurt someone, even if we didn’t mean to hurt them.

This also led to some talk about everyone having sin-frozen hearts, and Jesus coming to thaw us with His sacrifice, because He loves us so much. Although we’ve had several talks about Jesus as our savior lately, I’m not sure she quite gets it yet.  I’m hoping that the story’s power lives in her imagination until such time as the application becomes clear to her. (I also wrote about this idea back in January.)

In fact, I am always grateful for any plot line in a book or a movie which allows me to make the Good News feel more immediate and concrete. One of the most moving aspects of C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is the death of Aslan for Edmund.  We need these illustrations which remind us that Christ in his death was suffering for each of us individually…He didn’t just die for a faceless mass of humanity.

But as I pray for these ideas to take root inside her heart and mind, I must also pray for patience and allow the Spirit to work at His own pace with her. Lucy is a literalist right now, as witness a recent bedtime conversation:

I was rocking her, and she suddenly announced, “Jesus is in my heart.”

He is, Lucy? That’s good!

“Yes, he climbed in through a little hole.”

Ah.

 We all are born with gaping caverns in our hearts that Jesus needs to fill. May all who need His entry leave an opening for Him to enter those hollow and needy spaces…even if it’s just a little hole.