There is a photograph stored in my memory from the recent days of summer, captured on the street where I live. The photograph shows a blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl named Lucy. She is a three-year-old who proudly proclaims that she is a self-taught ballerina ... telling all who will listen that she hasn’t had any lessons yet. And after this proclamation, there is always an invitation to watch her demonstrate her latest spins and twirls. She is a diligent student, and I am certain she will greatly excel when she does start studying “professionally.” Lucy has a variety of spin skirts and tutus in her wardrobe and even a swimsuit with lovely bands of tulle around the waist. On this particular day, she was wearing a pink leotard with an attached pale pink tutu, her rock-candy pink bicycle helmet, some hot pink water shoes and a smile from ear to ear. It was a hot, humid, sunny afternoon, her cheeks were sun-kissed, and there was a glimmer of perspiration on her little shoulders. She had been riding her bike for some time and she was sweaty. Suddenly, Lucy stopped her bike (also pink) and peeled the top half of her leotard down to her waist. She reclaimed the handlebars and headed down the street, calling out, “Watch me, Grandma!”
My first thought was to ask her to pull her top back up, but as Lucy sped down the street with the wind in her face, setting her long blonde curls and that pink tutu to flight, all I could do was watch with delight. She was happy and free. I realized I wouldn’t want it any other way. Lucy is much loved by all who share life with her, and I’m pretty sure that deep down in her heart, she knows it. She has been attending “Bible school” and Sunday school since she could sit up, and she has verses and songs tucked away in her heart. One of my greatest joys is singing an old praise song with her and her brother – one that I sang almost every day with their daddy when he was their age. It is called “Sanctuary” by John W. Thompson and Randy Scruggs. An even greater joy is that it was their father who taught it to them without my knowledge.
The words of King David in 2 Samuel 7:18 come to my mind as I think about these things, and I cannot help but ask the same question he asked:
“Who am I, Sovereign LORD, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?”
My childhood was nothing like Lucy’s. Delightful days of play, the hope of ballet lessons, playing a favorite instrument, sharing picnic lunches on the beach and writing to a pen pal were not my experiences. Sorrow so often overwhelmed the occasional glimpses of beauty, and “good gifts” were a rarity. The sweetest thing about the journey of childlike faith is finding yourself forever grateful that it was as it was. Somehow, it was allowed by God so that His plans and purposes for my life – and yours – would be revealed. There is a deep joy to find that His love for us is perfect and beyond comprehension! This is a truth I've become well acquainted with as my story has unfolded, and I hope to share more of that story with you in future posts.
It is a privilege to share the journey with you. Thank you for stopping by and sharing faith, hope and love together. I hope you know that you are TRULY LOVED!