why do you always complicate things that are really quite simple?

“Katie, do you have a Porsche?”

This was the greeting I received from a certain munchkin, as he wandered up the sidewalk. C2, turn around. He hopped around to stare at my car. I had anticipated a car question. Yesterday, as he left for a friend’s house, I secretly watched him walk around my car, peer in every window, and smash his nose to the glass (teensy smudges still appear with the morning sun).

“But do you have another car at home? Like… do you have a Porsche?” No, Sir, my other car is a bike.

His chin fell a little. He was disappointed for me. I tried not to giggle, as he absorbed the information, nodded, and continued into the house.

I don’t have a Porsche. I do have the unique powers of every Gormiti action figure memorized. (Magmion has a blade on his arm and a rock for a tail.) I do have the permanent mental visual of one tiny blonde kid tucked into a tree only to soar out of the branches and onto the shoulders of his terrified brother (with the sound effect which could only be described as possessed squirrel). I do have 4:13 this afternoon when the eight year old not only decided I could share the couch with him but also curled up next to me, so I wouldn’t miss a minute of his story.

“What did that guy mean? What’s 9 out of 10?”

Flipped upside down on the couch, C2 paused in the middle of his narration and tilted his head at the TV. He meant the group needed to have ten objects, but they were missing something.

“Why did they say that one guy had 10 out of 10?” He found the piece that was missing.

Right after C2 inspected the insides of my car yesterday afternoon, I took advantage of the quiet house and was struck by this:

“I walked out to the hill just now. It is exalting, delicious, to stand embraced by the shadows of a friendly tree with the wind tugging at your coattail and the heavens hailing your heart, to gaze and glory and give oneself again to God – what more could a man ask? Oh, the fullness, pleasure, sheer excitement of knowing God on earth! I care not if I never raise my voice again for Him, if only I may love Him, please Him. Mayhap in mercy He shall give me a host of children that I may lead them through the vast star fields to explore His delicacies whose finger ends set them to burning. But if not, if only I may see Him, touch His garments, and smile into His eyes – ah then, not stars nor children shall matter, only Himself.

“O Jesus, Master and Center and End of all, how long before that Glory is thine which has so long waited Thee? Now there is no thought of Thee among men; then there shall be thought for nothing else. Now other men are praised; then none shall care for any other’s merits. Hasten, hasten, Glory of Heaven, take Thy crown, subdue Thy Kingdom, enthrall Thy creatures.” (Jim Elliot, Through Gates of Splendor)

He found the piece that was missing.