questions from a little heart

We spent Christmas with friends, some old and some new. It was really an enjoyable day, with lots of children running around and good conversation.

Elijah loves, loves, loves to hear other kids talking and playing. We brought a floor-level chair along for him to sit in so he could be in on the fun.

One little five-year-old girl was especially kind to Elijah (actually all the kids were really sweet). Her mom and I were sitting on the floor in the 'kid room' talking, and this little girl was cuddling in her mom's lap. With a sad look on her face, she asked her mom about Elijah. "Why can't he walk? And why does he have to sit in that chair?"

Blink, blink. Suddenly, I felt about to cry. I guess I didn't want this little girl to think of Elijah as someone to be pitied, so I hid my emotions and launched into my standard "Elijah has a big owie, so that's why he can't walk". But on the inside, the little girl's questions were mirrors of my own.

Why, Lord, why?

Why are the other kids running around tearing up the house, while my little boy can only listen to their rowdy play with a happy look on his face? I don't know. I achingly long for heaven sometimes. I wish I could catch a glimpse, a preview, of what's ahead. Wish I could see my son running through the grass, wild with glee, flinging arms and legs recklessly.

Answers are not something we are promised in this life, at least not answers that always make sense to our human minds. The questions may not go away, but "where He is there is freedom" (paraphrase of 2 Cor. 3:17). And if there are cameras in heaven, you can believe I'll be snappin' lots of pics of Elijah running around when we get there! :)