God Comes Running When You Cry


Wise mothers learn to speak “kid-ese, or is it kid-lish?”–the language of their little ones.

For instance, not all yells and tears convey the same meaning. Sometimes, the little one cries out and it means, “Mama, come here and beat the sap out of my brother. He’s picking on me and I’m not big enough to whip him myself.”

Then there are whimpers and sniffles, which mean, “I’ve got the blues and I want you to cuddle me.”

Other yelps mean, “I’ve had enough friend and this means war.” Mama becomes a referee in those cases.

When our son, Charles, was four or five he was prone to see bears in the dark. One day he and his little sister Christi tore around the corner of the house yelling, “Snake!”

Charles felt obliged to add, “And this time we really did see a snake.” I suppose that was an admission that some of those bears he saw weren’t as real as all that.

But, then there is the cry that cuts to every parent’s heart and sets them sprinting to help. You know something is wrong. What’s the difference? Fear inspires this cry and a parent feels it to the core of his being. Continue reading