Good Things

A couple of weeks ago we were visited by a family containing one extra-small, one small, and one very-close-to-no-longer-being-in-the-small-category personages. 
The word “delightful” can be overused, but not in the case of these three, as they worked busily at one hundred intricate tasks every minute...usually accompanied by a sort of background singing or mumbling murmur.  Occasionally they would reach up and pull one of us larger ones down into their world of important and curious flotsam and jetsam. I’m conscious of how earnestly we tried to echo the sounds, searching for the importance and meaning through the cobwebs of our age and the responsibilities of the real world.

Into just such a moment of enchanted distraction I attempted to serve breakfast. Pulling at their attention with questions, I barely registered as I asked number of pancakes? spoon or fork? honey or syrup?

“So,” I continued with my stalwart invasion of reverie, “do you want your orange juice in a glass, or do you have a special cup?”

“Special,” came the dreamy reply.

“I would like a special cup also,” stated the one who seems to be looking at the world of grown-ups, thinking that perhaps he is just nearly one of them.

I saw my error clearly. I had been enquiring about the existence of a spill-proof safety net of a drinking vessel, but three pairs of eyes were now sparkling with anticipation over the impending production of a special cup. They were riveted. 
“Special it is, then.” I improvised as I turned toward the cupboard holding all of my drearily mundane options.

That exchange came back to me a few days ago as I reached into the same cabinet for a juice glass. I selected one from the batch I prefer -- the bubbly plastic highball cups. I choose them because they feel sturdy in my hand and seem to hold the right serving size. 
It is what I served to my small-ish guests in that moment of heightened anticipation. 
And my choice pleased them! Not because they had a preconceived standard that I met, but because they trusted my evaluation. 
These were, indeed, special cups.

I prefer the world of small people. It’s a good place to be. I can’t help but see through their eyes the shape of the really real world -- where I am given good things, told they are so, and left to trust that the One who has handed them to me is not improvising but working out a plan He set before I was even the proverbial “twinkle in my daddy’s eye”.
 

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; 

knock, and it will be opened to you.  

For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, 

and to the one who knocks it will be opened.  

Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone?  

Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? 

If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!