We were sitting at dinner a few days ago. William (who is two-years old) had
cleaned his plate, which had consisted of cous cous, pears, and hot dogs. I
offered him more pear. I should have recognized the problem before it even
reached his mouth. This pear came out of the salad Peter and I were eating, so
it had dressing on it. But William popped it in and then stuck out his tongue
with wide eyes.

After I helped him clear his palate of the offending taste,
he said, “Mom. Yuck in my mouth. Please pray for me.”

Peter and I suppressed our smiles. I prayed out loud for
William. And we all got back to eating.

It was but one in a series of episodes last week involving
William and a burgeoning interest in prayer/God/the Bible. We pulled into
church on Sunday and he asked, “Is this my church that I love?” Another day, I
found him paging through a small black notebook of his father’s. He looked up
at me and said, “I want to read this Bible book.” Then, we were putting them to
bed a few nights ago and William said, “Let’s pray for Penny feel better.” (She
had said earlier that she was tired.)

I know better than to think William fully understands what
prayer is, or who God is. For him, God and Jesus are akin to superheroes, and
part of our role as parents is to help our kids grow up with the recognition
that these figures from the Bible aren’t the same as the ones from television
and fairy tales.

And yet, I also know that Jesus told us to pay attention to
the faith of little children. He told us to pray like children. To be bold in
our requests with our heavenly Father, as children are of their parents. And he
told us that the kingdom of heaven, “belongs to such as these.”

So I will try to do my bumbling part in modeling a life of
faith. And I will also try to learn from the simple and direct faith of my
children, even if it involves praying about pears.