For the little hearts




A couple of weekends ago I got to hang out with a special young Frenchman of the name of Noealan.
Noealan is 2, coming on 3. He's super cute. His mum calls him 'Little Monk' because he seems to have been born with a strong sense that the outside world is dirty and could contaminate him. If he suspects that something in his surroundings is sub-optimal, he makes sure everyone knows about it.

Common concerns include:

J'ai mal!    
C'est sale!
J'ai faim!

(It hurts! I'm dirty! I'm hungry!)

When he left our house he was really sad that he couldn't ride my bicycle. And the double whammy of no bicycle and having to say goodbye to 'Tata Cat' was overwhelming. The world faded to a rainy haze.

Life is like that when you're 2. Present anxieties shout really loud, drowning out everything else. You struggle to see very far into the future. There's a deep doubt that your needs are going to be met. There's a fear that this sense of need and want and vulnerability will last forever. You're completely blind to the reality that you are safe, you are cared for - right now - because someone bigger, wiser and stronger than you has been keenly attending to your needs all along. Someone who loves you. 

I'm not 2 anymore. In fact, I'd like to think I do quite a convincing impression of being a 'responsible adult'. I'm 'mum' to a cohort of school leavers, dishing out encouragement here, firmness there, dispensing wisdom on how you can use your adolescence to prepare for adulthood, doing just about everything short of song and dance to coax them through their exams.  

But I see myself in Noealan. 

I have the same wide-eyed, panicked forgetfulness. I forget that my Dad is already on the case. I'll be taken by surprise that I get really hungry in the middle of the afternoon. I won't have thought to bring a snack. I have all kinds of concerns and worries and fears - some far less rational than others ("It's ok, sweetie, you're really not dirty. You're squeaky clean!") I just can't stand the feeling of being needy and weak. I don't like being hungry, even for a little bit.

But my Dad is on the case. Whatever situation I'm in, he's been planning for it for ages. He thought I would like to have ice cream today, so he went to the supermarket last week to buy it.  He never stops watching out for me, and he will always make sure that I'm safe. He has the best ideas of things that will bless me. Things that I am just not ready for yet and couldn't imagine if I tried. He is patient with every single one of my meltdown moments. He's always willing to drop what he's doing to look after me. He takes joy in looking after me.

Because he's my Dad.


"Your Father knows what you need before you ask him." Matthew 6:8

"Do not be afraid little Flock - it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." Luke 12: 32

"As a Father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him." Psalm 103:13






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