This morning before church, I have a moment to relax with a cup of coffee at the kitchen table.
I put a dollop of whipped cream in my coffee mug. (I like to pretend I'm at Starbucks.)
All of a sudden, the little one flits over, skirt twirling and finger pointing at my mug.
Then she does it. She actually does it. She sticks her finger straight into the cream, pulls it out, and licks away.
The audacity! How dare she? I'm feeling. . . something. As she completes another twirl around me, I see her pointed finger approaching my mug. But instead of punishing her, I tip the coffee mug so she can get the most cream. I'm encouraging this atrocious behavior.
I'm so overcome with love for that little child.
The image of the little one dancing about me with inappropriate manners and audacious finger-pointing requests delights me. I should have been angry. I should have scolded her, but I cannot. That little twirl! That little finger full of cream!
Later in church, the image stirs up within me. It wasn't an audible voice; it wasn't a boom of thunder from the clouds. But as I recalled that child and how I couldn't help but tip the mug so she might enjoy more of what I could offer, I felt that Spirit-whisper saying: I feel this way about you. I'm overcome with love.
Dance about. Make audacious and inappropriate requests. Point the finger and dizzy yourself with twirls. God tips the mug, delighted.