faith

I babysit a couple of 2-year-olds on Tuesday mornings. Usually it's chaotic and happy and lovely because everything is new to them. And they are excited about everything. Everything warrants a celebration because they have figured out what it is and how to say it and how to appreciate it. Most of the time, it's the highlight of may week.
But today things were a little more stressful than usual. They were discovering things that were potentially dangerous and all of a sudden they were both in tears and I wasn't exactly sure why. I think one fell down and one just felt like crying or something. It all happened at once. So I picked up the little girl and asked her what was wrong. When she finally calmed down enough to tell me that she hurt her tummy. I asked if I should rub her tummy and she said yes. So I did and then asked her if it felt better. No.
"What should we do to make it better?" I asked. She stopped crying and looked at me and said, "Maybe we should pray about it."
And it was just the most moving thing. Obviously that's the best thing to do. And this little girl knew that praying would help. So we sat right there on the couch and, me holding back tears, we prayed for her tummy. After we prayed, the rest of the morning went just fine. Everyone was happy again. Everything went smoothly.
I was having a frustrating morning, but thanks to the faith of this toddler, I was reminded of the power of Jesus. And, of course, none of this is up to me. It's all up to him.