a child's heart

Taking care of a herd of three-year-olds for a group of young moms is something I do the first Friday of the month. This one particular morning I had about 12 little ones all to myself. It wasn't very long into the two and a half hours that I realized I needed some help.

Before I knew it, a little girl I barely knew started taking care of kids who were asking for things. One girl wanted me to take the top off a Play-Doh container while I was already taking off one boy's jacket with another one in line and with a kidlet on my lap. Meredith jumped in and said to her, "I will do it for you." When a girl was kind of sad because she wanted her mommy, Meredith handed over her own dolly and said, "You can hold her." A boy wanted the bathroom, and Meredith said, "I will show him where it is." When two boys were fighting over a car under my radar, she told me about it without alarm, and I got the sense that she was simply trying to help keep order, like There's a potential tsunami going on over there, just so you know. During snack time, she helped pass out the string cheese and fruit while keeping an eye on the still sad girl with the loaner dolly.

My kids were decent little people, but the degree of caring service this tiny child showed just floored me. I felt like she would've gladly given a kidney if anyone had needed it, just reached in and pulled it right out. Or shaved off all her hair for a leukemia patient with a wig need. The depth of her compassion and thoughtfulness was a source of both inspiration and conviction.

I realized that my assumption was that this caliber of virtue was something I might find in an occasional mature believer seasoned by great periods of suffering, divine revelation, and a lifetime of deliberate dying to self. But like the Babe who came silently, unexpectedly, and upside-downedly, this sweet babe did a number on my world in the most ruthlessly loving way--in innocence, absence of self, and total other-centeredness. And I am profoundly grateful.