stay little.
Lately, I’ve been practicing staying more present in my body (which, if I’m honest, is pretty difficult for me to do). I’ve spent most of my life trapped in my head, overthinking, overanalyzing, and overcorrecting. And well, let’s just say, I’m over it.
So this year, one of my focuses in my mindfulness practice is to remember what life is like outside of my head.
Do you know who I’ve been looking to for inspiration? My kids.
My three girls are always present in their bodies. They roll down the windows whenever we’re driving and squint into the wind. They run everywhere and somehow never get tired. They dance every time they hear music. They’re goofy, messy, playful, enthusiastic feelers of feelings…all without putting much thought into it.
That’s just who they are.
I think about how Jesus Christ calls us to become like little children. Honestly, I’ve always been a little confused about that part of scripture. Whenever I hear Christ describing children as humble and meek, my thought process—especially on a hard parenting day—usually goes something like this: “Humble? Has He met my kids? I’ve played too many board games with them to know that humility is not their strong suit.”
But the more I think about it, the more I see the wisdom in the call to stay little. That doesn’t mean that we are to play small or not mature, but I do think it means that we have to consciously choose to hold on to those childhood attributes that slowly start to drift away as we grow up.
My kids are fully dependent. Of course, sometimes they try to convince me they can do everything on their own (anyone who has spent more than two minutes with a toddler can attest to this), but they still relish the fact that they are my child and I will provide for them. Anytime they want something, they know who to call for. Anytime they are in need, they’re right at my feet, unashamedly and expectantly.
Can I embody that kind of dependency and rely upon my Savior?
My kids are vulnerable. They easily express their darkest fears and share their innermost thoughts without any sort of self-consciousness. They are weak, but most days they don’t seem to notice. Instead, they assume that someone will care for them when they need it. They are soft and small and breakable, and we love them for it.
Can I demonstrate that same vulnerability with my Father?
My kids are worthy. They believe with totally unearned confidence that they are good and special simply because they exist. Every outfit they put on is awesome, every picture they draw is a masterpiece, and every talent they pick up is going to be their future career. These things just make sense to them because they haven’t allowed anyone else to influence them otherwise. They know who they are.
Can I remember my inherent worth without having to search for it?
Maybe growing up with God means allowing yourself to stay little. Maybe it means slowing down and staying present. Because when we get out of our heads and quit trying so hard with all our overthinking, overanalyzing, and overcorrecting, when we stop and take a good look at what’s around us, we start to see through the eyes of a child.
We remember who cares for us. We feel that profound sense of love. And heaven doesn’t seem so far away after all.
