Choo Choo’s and Trucks

My son is growing up, little by little. It’s my joy and privilege to parent him with my wife. His little mind is sharp. He’s learing words left and right, beginning to count to ten, and climbing everywhere. He loves trucks and diggers and garbage trucks — and especially his choo choo’s (wooden trains given to him by his family).

But choo choo’s and trucks won’t satisfy him. His heart is restless, and will be until he finds rest in Jesus. His little conscience is awake and active. He shooshes himself when he yells at the table, and says “uh oh” before throwing something he knows he shouldn’t. He runs to his mom and dad when he needs us, but resists us and struggles to trust us when we tell him not to do something he wants to do.

So we pray and we read and we teach. We love him, protect him, care for him, and we call his little heart to trust us. We don’t do this because we expect to make him perfect. We do it because we know he isn’t perfect, and that he needs to trust Jesus most of all.