a Gift

She laid her blond head on the table next to me. Her quietness alerting me that something was up. "What wrong", I asked as I continued my web work.

She was quieter still.

The thought came to me to be just as quiet...I'd show her I really did care to know.

After a while her head came up, dashing her brilliant-yellow hair away from her eyes, their blue filled with the unspoken question: "Why are you quiet?"

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what's wrong" I answered.

She paused before whispering, "I don't want you to go!"

I reasoned in eight-year-old language why it was actually really great that I was going and how no matter what happened, because we love Jesus we'd see each other again and what fun she'd have while I was gone. I think I blabbed to much. The next thing I knew she was sobbing, her shoulders heaving and her soft tears dampening her shirt sleeve.

"It won't be the same without you!" Came the muffled cry.

We talked it out.

But after I tucked her in to my sister's bed I couldn't help but wonder at it all.

The simple, sincere, deep love of a child.

That beguiling childhood sensitivity.

It awakens wonder and tenderness and protectiveness.

No walls, no falseness, no edge...

Just love. just love.

What a gift.