This is God, in God's holy place.
His big blue eyes were blinking up at me, bright and widened. I tickled his chubby feet with kisses and his smile broke out, that contagious one that touches both ears. Yeah, one of those grins (you've seen such smiles, surely). My baby nephew chunkamunk is truly the cutest child you've ever seen.
No, I'm not biased. Of course I have proof.
He's round as can be and has hardly any hair, what more proof do you need?
Giggles and coos, ahhs and oohs and suddenly I feel two little arms around my neck from the back. The other little has come up, sweet as can be, and hugged me, hard.
Just because.
Littles don't need reasons to love. They just do.
Lets go, sits down, and rests his head, because we all need shoulders to lean on (or in this case, my side).
Wanna know a secret? My heart melted, right then and there. My nephews are special to me, and even though they aren't my kids, they'll forever hold a sweet place in my heart. They're my sister's children, so that makes them mine in some sort of way. My sister, her husband, their kids. My parents, my little sister, my stepbrothers and their families. My grandparents, let me tell you: those people understand me like I can hardly explain. My uncles and aunts, and all of my many cousins (we're a loud bunch when we all get together, and it shouldn't be any other way), all of the people who have married in and all of the children who have come:
These are my people. These are my loves.
Sitting in my small, comfortable, cozy living room watching Land Before Time and munching on candy pumpkins, my heart melted because two little souls, my precious nephews that time and distance allows me to see too little of, ushered the kingdom to earth.
And I don't think they even meant to.
It's a natural outpour, it's who they are. My nephews, three years and ten months, are silly and kind, loving and cute. They are funny and smart, huggy and heart-melting.
I'm positive, I'm sure: this is God, in God's holy place.
My living room is small, because I'm a self-sufficient college girl who works at Starbucks until one a.m. each evening. The space my roommate and I own is plain and casual, but we are plain and casual people so I think it works. It's not fancy, anything but expensive, but it's ours and it's safe and we pray over it like crazy.
The Shalom Home: that's what our space is called. It's hardly a house, but it's not at all an apartment. I'm not exactly sure what it is, but it's special and it's good, and God meets with us here.
Some days the kingdom comes and it is big and grand and all sorts of extravagant. The walls are shiny gold and the roof rains confetti. It's loud and fun and perhaps somewhat celebratory.
Some days it's dark, and the kingdom comes when you're crying out to God, because why in the world is life this hard, and again, God? I have to get up out of this bed and live for you, again?
Some days though? The kingdom is calm. Heaven is found in the "be still" and the peace, in the glassy waters and the Shalom moments of our days.
The kingdom is in the space of talking dinosaurs on a television, because this movie has always been wonderful, and in the midst of watching it with your very favorite littles in the whole, whole world this moment is peace and joy and all things love.
This past week was achy and hard, after all. Grownups were harsh and the world was a little mean, and you cried way too much because everything was making you weepy.
When the world is really hard, go hang out with children. That's where the kingdom is, and we could all take a few notes on how to how to bring heaven to earth.
Littles usher it in fast, this sweet kingdom of God for which we are striving, because they live in it's very midst. They know that the kingdom is the best space to reside, the best place to be.
A place of love and hugs, of silliness and hope. Joy most days and pain on others, but in all moments authenticity because God cares that we have genuine hearts. Littles are adventurous and wild, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and most days they are braver than I am. They are welcoming and kind, because no one is born judging or hating another person: we teach kids to do these things.
Littles don't need reasons to love. They just do.
I wish I could be like this, because I think it's what Jesus would want. Didn't He say something about that?
Didn't He speak it out, the most important commandment is this: love the Lord your God, and the second is like it: love your neighbor as yourself?
Love God. Love people.
It's really not that hard, and yet it is because we all fail at it every single day. Loving is difficult, I'll be the first to admit it. Loving is strenuous and cumbersome and selfless and awkward. It forces us to wash feet and humble down and raise others up when we want to do just the opposite.
It's a bit of the kingdom though, so I think there's something there. I think it's important, and I think it's the Jesus way.
Besides, the truly good things never come easy. They are hard and require much.
And this kingdom of God?
Well, I'm learning it requires my all.
It requires me to do hard and holy things.
This is God, in God's holy place.
