In my last blog I wrote about how enchanting a child's perspective can be. The very fact that we are born with a sense of how things ought to be is evidence that there is a God and that we're living in a fallen world. No one had to teach Sloan that it wasn't fair for one child to be born with sight and another without and no one had to teach my friend's little boy that his big sister is not the way she ought to be.

My friend Stacey's 15-year old daughter Alisha (who, like Brett, was born with severe disabilities) sometimes giggles for no apparent reason. Often this involuntary giggling occurs at inappropriate times, times when they wish she would remain quiet, like during their meal time prayers. Usually it's Stacey's five-year old son Caleb that struggles to be still and quiet for prayer, but the other night, Alisha started giggling, and little Caleb became a tad irritated. When the prayer was over, he asked, "Why did you get her anyway?" (implying that she hadn't been one of their better choices). He wasn't entirely satisfied with their answer that they'd actually "gotten" her before him, and he exasperatedly asked why God doesn't just "heal her up?"

Caleb doesn't know a life without Alisha. She has always been there, and he has never had any inhibitions about trying to communicate with her. Stacey tells of how (since he was really little) he has been scrambling up onto her wheelchair and pressing his nose against hers, just staring into her eyes. Though Alisha has always been a fixture in Caleb's life, he is probably only just now beginning to realize how much easier their life would be if only God would just "heal her up". Sadly, we aren't going to be able to give him any simple answers, because we don't have them. We can only share that we have chosen to trust in God's word and His promises and that as far as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are His ways higher than our ways and His thoughts than our thoughts. (Isaiah 55:9). Sure, there have been blessings unveiled in some of the difficulties, but the sharp ache of what could have been never goes away entirely and sometimes it's overwhelming in its intensity.

I've shared here before that Paul's words, "perplexed but not in despair" (2 Cor. 4) epitomize how I feel about Brett. I take great comfort in the fact that Paul, in spite of witnessing all manner of spectacular miracles, still didn't feel like he had all the answers. If even Paul never got to a state of being un-perplexed, than I can be certain I'll never arrive there...and that's okay... because, like Paul goes on to say, "we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that for outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal" (2 Cor. 4:16-18). We can't see the eternal glory that Alisha and Brett are achieving here on earth but we can live without despair and know that they will be perfect and whole for all eternity and that their heavenly rewards will be far greater than anything we can possibly imagine.

I love how honest kids are. They haven't yet learned how to disguise their true thoughts and feelings. In "The Divine Conspiracy" Dallas Willard writes that, "interestingly, 'growing up' is largely a matter of learning to hide our spirit behind our face, eyes, and language so that we can evade and manage others to achieve what we want and avoid what we fear. By constrast, the child's face is a constant epiphany because it doesn't yet know how to do this." It's no wonder that Jesus beseeches us to have "child-like faith", without fear or phoniness.

Sloan was only four years old the first time he met Brett. He knelt down beside him and started talking to him and making funny faces, and I had to gently tell him that Brett couldn't see him. He was visibly appalled, almost angry.

"That's not FAIR!"

I wasn't sure how to respond. To an adult I might say, "Yeah, well...life isn't fair, is it?" But to a child? That seemed a bit much.

"He doesn't see anything?" Sloan persisted.

I sadly shook my head.

"But that's not fair!" he said again, even more vehemently.

It amused me and oddly enough, I found his genuine indignation comforting... a refreshingly honest departure from the positive spin most adults feel obligated to give it. I've had plenty of people tell me what a "blessing" it is. A blessing? I confess I struggle not to be aggravated by that one. If you think it's such a blessing than why don't you pray for a child of your own with severe disabilities? But, like my mom always reminds me, they mean well. Of course they do. I know that. People don't know what to say, but children are free to call it as they see it.

Caitlin teaches fourth and fifth graders at a private school in the Washington D.C. area. One day she told her students all about Brett. I think she was somewhat taken aback by their strong reaction to the news. It was all so sad! How horrible that Miss Staples' little brother was born like that! Poor little Brett! Poor Miss Staples!

One of Caitlin's little girls came up to her desk a little later. She wanted to say something to make Miss Staples feel better about her little brother. She asked Caitlin if she knew about the verse in the Bible where Jesus said the "least on earth will be the greatest in Heaven?"

Caitlin nodded encouragingly.

And the little girl sweetly continued, "Because I think that means your little brother is going to be the greatest in Heaven."

Isn't that precious? I can't describe how touched I was by this story. God used that little girl to comfort and encourage me like nothing else ever has. I will forever cherish those particular words of Jesus. I will never read them again without remembering that little girl and thanking God for her and her precious insight. How awesome that God's truths are simple enough to be understood by a child and yet remain "alive and active" to comfort and instruct us through every season of our lives.