Originally from February of 2010, this post is worth re-sharing during this season of advent. Even if you’ve already read it, please read again. Tears flowed down again:

I’ve been publishing a series of posts entitled “Teaching Little Kyla…” documenting and sharing our  journey of parental flubs, flaws, failures and accidental^ fortune. Posts that would normally be included as part of the “Teaching Little Kyla…” series will now be uniquely titled. At times we are teaching little Kyla and at other times little Kyla is teaching us. More falls in the latter.

A couple of weeks ago Kyla had just finished receiving her evening bath. She had been playing in the water with a foam alphabet system, sorting the letters more by color than by consonants and vowels ordered to spell certain words. She calls the foam characters her “super letters.”

Sarah was nearly finished drying and dressing our little one when for no apparent reason Kyla began to pray. The only plausible explanation was genuine gratitude.

“Dear Gawd, phank you for my baphtub… and… for my super letters.” Sarah responded, “Kyla, those are great things to be thankful for. There are some kids around the world that don’t have bathtubs or super letters.”

The world. Stopped. Instantly.

There are some kids around the world that don’t have bathtubs or super letters.

Kyla immediately had a frown across her face complete with angry and confused wrinkled eyebrows. As I watched from across the room I could see the deep trouble and grief that Kyla felt. She turned and looked up to Sarah and said, “No. They do. They have baphtubs and super letters.”

Sarah replied, “No. There are a lot of children – like the children we’ve been praying for in Haiti – that don’t have bathtubs or super letters.”

With anguish… and confusion… and agony… and distress on her face, Kyla looked down. And in the next moment, she looked up… and narrated the gospel.

“I will give them my baphtub and super letters.”

And the tears that welled up in my eyes began to run down my face.

Without agenda. Can’t we all love like a two year old?

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^ There is someone(s) greater than me/us (a divine being and a community of people) that intercede with grace and giving.