Originally written August 23, 2005
Edited: October 10, 2020
Five months pregnant with my second child, I rested on the family room couch while my husband washed the evening dishes so I could get off my feet for a few minutes. A rarity, but I’d take it.
To keep our 21-month-old daughter entertained and out of the kitchen, I started a game of catch with a small but brightly decorated spongy ball—an object easy to see. Seemed like a great idea, but our attempt, more or less, turned into a game of fetch. Our toddler didn’t mind. She gladly ran after each failed catch, giggling while chasing the colorful escape artist.
About toss number four, I accidentally caused the ball to go rolling into the kitchen and out of sight. “Oops, I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Will you go get that for me? It’s kind of hard for Mommy to move right now.”
My little opponent disappeared in a flash. For almost two full minutes, I heard little feet walking around the kitchen and a tiny voice muttering, “Uh-oh…. Uh-oh….” With my husband still in the kitchen and not reacting to her presumed distress, I didn’t concern myself with her safety—after all, “uh-oh” had become her latest phrase, and she’d often use it for no apparent reason.
Walking from the kitchen back into the family room, my daughter came up to me with the most puzzled look on her face. “Mama?” She reached for me and pulled on my hand.
“What do you want, Sweetie? What’s the matter?” I pushed myself to a seated position then stood to follow her.
Playing follow the leader, she steered me into the kitchen. “Bah. Here,” she answered. Getting down on her knees, she lowered her head to the floor and peered under the open dishwasher door. Instinctively, I followed suit, getting down on all fours, forgetting all about my five-month pregnant belly. (I’m sure I looked quite silly.) Craning my neck, I squinted my eyes to see into the darkness. There, in the far left corner, under the dishwasher door, sat her ball. I retrieved it, then sat on the floor for several minutes, enjoying a good laugh.
My daughter’s dilemma didn’t bring a smile to my face, nor did imagining how ridiculous I must have looked down on my knees, attempting to rescue the day. I laughed because her communication had been so simple. She hadn’t had the perfect words nor rehearsed her plea. Nor did she dress in a special way or perform a great deed. She simply had to come to me and voiced her need, and she knew I would be there.
The same goes with our heavenly Father. “‘Call on Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.’” (Jeremiah 33:3 NKJV) His criteria is simple: call to Me. It doesn’t have an age requirement, a perfection status, or a dress code. You simply have to tell Him your need, and He will be there.