Loving My Inner Child

 

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It’s a perfect morning. Sunny with a balmy breeze that takes me back to days as a child. Like today, it was around the time of my birthday. My fifth birthday to be exact. I was daydreaming while I sat on the metal swing-set in the backyard. Swinging and singing a made-up song. Hair softly blowing in the wind. Behind me, rows of grapes starting to bud. And everywhere I looked my world was a pretty spring green.

At one point, I started thinking about my life and what it might look like when I came to the end of it. Even at five, I often wondered how God would judge me when I met Him face to face. I thought my life might look like a movie. God reviewing every moment of my life while everyone watched every deed, heard every word, and listened to every thought. It would be fair to think that at five I didn’t have much to worry about, but even then I had secrets I didn’t want to be revealed. The fact that God already knew caused me great shame which, unfortunately, was not enough to keep me godly.

On days like today, I think of that little girl and her young life. So much living yet to do; her thoughts, words, and deeds paling in comparison to all those that would follow.

I will turn 56 soon, and when I do I will remember that earnest girl, far too serious for her years. She is the pensive, sensitive, anxious side of me. She is where depression lives. When I weep for the world so cruel at times that my heart breaks, it is through her eyes that I weep. When I look at the beauty that surrounds me I experience it with the awe and wonder of a child.

Throughout my life, I have tried to ignore her, tried to pretend she isn’t a part of me. But for all her sensitivities she will not be denied. And so, I have learned to love and cherish her. The part of me that is the purest; my heart.

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