Looking at Lent: Trust

In the pouring rain of Monday, Dave, Kelsey, and I dropped Mommy off at Tripler Hospital around 9 am and began a drive around Oahu that would land us at Haliewa Joe’s for an 11:30 lunch with friends from Garrett County. When Kelsey asked about her parents, we took the time to pray for each of them at work. Enter trust. No wonder Christ instructed us to enter the kingdom as children.

Kelsey did not fret about her parents. Instead, she expressed contentment and joy; she smiled, waved, sang songs with me in the backseat of the car, warmed to our friends right away, made many new friends at the restaurant by continually smiling at them.and walking around with me in her light up shoes.

Within the last few days, Bryan and Stacey have taught Kelsey to count to three. With great excitement, she grows very animated at the mere mention of one. She immediately says, two, the word itself causing the flexing of the little dimples on either side of her face. Then with total abandon, she says three and launches into the waiting arms of one of her parents or grandpa.

Doubt? Not in her vocabulary now. Dominating her world are joy and trust; they color her world.

Kelsey, like our other two granddaughters, makes me think about my life spiritually. I desire to trust the Lord more than wade around in the quagmires of fear and doubt. How do I develop trust this Lent?

Hiding my eyes and pretending will not bring trust. Kelsey can play hide and seek with Minnie in complete confidence.

As an adult, I know that someone might come along and take away the beloved Minnie Mouse in my life. So through the years, I have layered doubt and fear.

The only cure I know is to look more closely at the Gospel. Jesus walked through this fallen world — perfectly. Still, he met betrayal for having done only good. Yet he looked down through history from the cross and died with my name on his lips. So I ask the Lord Jesus to teach me to surrender my clenched muscles, my gnawing doubts, and to infuse me with new grace and thanksgiving. After all, isn’t real trust the enlivening fall of my surrender into his safe hands?

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