my glimpse into heaven.

Matthew 18:2-6 "And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, "Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven...."

anyone who knows my son, knows he gets excited – really excited – about some funny things.

i can say, "caleb, we're having chicken for dinner," and his entire face will light up. he'll gasp, stomp his feet and shout, "chicken, chicken, chicken, YAY!"

and if i tell him to get his coat because “we gotta go,” his whole body becomes consumed with anticipation about where we may end up.

“are we going to see the big train?” “can i hold a crab?” “are we going in the big truck?” “can we go see the tracks?” “can i bring my lion?"

and during this barrage of questioning, he is scurrying around trying to gather his things so we won’t leave without him.

even if we are just going to the grocery store to get diapers, his passionate nature doesn't disappoint.

“oh, can i drive the car?” “i wanna go to Safeway!” “i wanna bring my lion and my water.”

the other day i was at whole foods, pushing caleb in one of those ridiculous kid carts with the big car attached to it. he was happily steering and singing songs while we cruised down the aisles. i was kind of lost in my own world, perusing all of the yummy, healthy and crazy expensive goodies around me – but i started to notice that a lot of people were stopping to smile at caleb. i finally looked down to see what he was doing. there he was with the brightest, happiest smile, maneuvering his car and belting out “three little monkeys jumping on the bed.” by the look on his face, you’d think we were at Disneyland.

i knew he had been singing, but i somehow tuned it out. i knew he’d be excited to drive the car, but i somehow was content with letting him play by himself so i could do my own thing.

good thing the faces of strangers ushered me back into his magical world. these are the moments i too often take for granted. this is the joy i unwittingly miss because of distractions far less important.

that same evening, after carting caleb around on several different errands, we decided to take a family walk on the beach.

as soon as i took him out of the car, he began exclaiming, "mommy, look at the boats!" "mommy, look, there's the water!" "mommy, i want to see a train!" "mommy, are we gonna go in a tunnel?"

as we strolled down the street on that beautiful, golden day, he was running, galloping, jumping up and down. he was throwing his hands in the air for no reason and shrieking with delight.

he was dancing with his shadow. singing songs at the top of his lungs. hugging every fire hydrant he came across.

he would stop to look at the gorgeous blue water and talk to the ducks and fish.

he chatted with people as they walked by and made everyone smile.

this time i wasn’t preoccupied. i wasn’t doing my own thing. i kept my eyes glued to him. and the joy in his heart transferred into mine.

i love this boy. i enjoy him. i’m proud of him.

and as i stared at him in delight, i added a new verb to add to my list.

i admire him. i want what he has.

i want to find joy in the most simple things.

i want to smile and talk to people without fear of rejection.

i want to gallop down the street with my hands in the air. and maybe hug a fire hydrant or two.

i want to sing at the top of my lungs.

i want to see the beauty of creation – of the ocean and the sky and birds and the trees – and have it never get old no matter how many times i see it.

i want to throw my arms around the people i love and make them feel like a million bucks.

and i want his short memory – the way he can be mad at me one minute, then shower me with kisses the next.

i want the simple discipline he has in his life that tells him to say sorry to those you’ve wronged right then and there. there’s no waiting until tomorrow. there’s no mulling over it, contemplating who did what first … there’s just that simple action that you hurt or disobeyed and you need to own up to it and say sorry.

i want that faith he has in his heart. that if he runs to us, we’ll always scoop him up in our arms and hold him close. that if he says sorry, we’ll always forgive him. that if he asks for anything that is good and beneficial for him, we’ll always want to give it to him.

yes, i envy this. the wonder, joy and faith of a child.

seeing the world through his eyes gives me major glimpses into heaven.

he reminds me that one day i’ll be more like him. i’ll be jumping down gold-paved streets, joyfully proclaiming all the wonders i see to my Father, running into His arms and knowing He’ll catch me and hold me close. and never let go.

i hope when caleb is older - when he is a man with a job and responsibilities and family of his own - i can look at him and tell him that he has not lost his child-like faith, excitement and sense of wonder. that he continues to make everyone around him feel like a million bucks. that he still easily forgives, trusts and loves. that he still has the most infectious smile in the world. and that he never in all of our years together, not even for one day, has failed to give his mama glimpses into heaven.