The Joy of Bedtime Prayers and Caterpillars

I recently returned home from a short trip and brought back little trinkets for my boys that I had picked up along the way. My oldest son received a set of small toy jets. The moment he laid eyes on his little dollar store treasure, he shrieked with joy. With arms raised victoriously, he ran laps around the living room while screaming, “Thank you, Mommy! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

One of my favorite things about being a parent is rediscovering the joy in everyday moments. Thanks to three sets of curious little eyes, I now know there is a little bit of magic in snowflakes falling into waiting open mouths. I realize that there is excitement in the sparkle of fireflies on the dark canvas of a summer night sky, and bubbling expectation in the buds on my lilac tree in the spring. I love that there is wonder in that fuzzy caterpillar whose journey across our patio is so often frustrated by probing chubby fingers and a magnified eye framed by circular glass. Three little men have helped me find joy in changing seasons, precipitation, and yes, even insects. As my boys sprout up before my eyes, I am slowly learning to grab hold of each glistening moment before it slips quietly into yesterday.

Children find joy in the every day. They see treasures in moments that often go overlooked by those of us who are older and “know better.” Jesus taught that, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Matthew 18:3) I believe we are to approach our spiritual life with a childlike posture of wonder. How often I have allowed routine to rob me of being drawn closer to God by the beauty of Christ. Sacred moments like communion, bedtime prayers with my children, and devotional reading tend to share my attention with countless other flighty thoughts. C.S. Lewis notes the magic of the present moment in his famous work, The Screwtape Letters. He writes, “The Present is the point at which time touches eternity.” When I hold a tiny cup of grape juice in one hand and a broken piece of cracker in the other, that moment holds the opportunity to meet with God, to be moved once again by the weight of the price He paid for me. When I take my son’s hand in prayer before bed, I have the chance to momentarily take his hand into mine then release it into the more worthy hand of the Father. Maybe these aren’t mundane moments, but sacred moments that should be grabbed hold of before they slip quietly into yesterday.

Even the mighty King David seemed to hint at Christ’s encouragement to “become like little children” when he prayed earnestly in Psalm 51:12, “Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation.” Perhaps if I truly grasped the “joy of thy salvation,” my prayer times wouldn’t end with “Amen,” but with a couple laps around my living room, and a “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”