bright blue snowboots

She is three, maybe four. Thick dark hair to her shoulders, held back by a black headband that blurs into the color of her bangs.

We are told to put on Christ and we think of Him in His private life.

Bright blue pastel snowboots, her neon pink pants tucked into them- puffy in the telling way that reveals the presence of other warmth-bringing layers beneath them. A yellow and gray striped sweater can barely contain her wiggling and waving arms.

His life of work, His public life, His teaching and His suffering life.

What would look eclectic on an adult just looks cute on her- a rainbow of colors that matches the smile filling her face.

But we do not think enough of His life as a little child, as a baby.

Worship begins and she begins too-

Dancing. Feet prancing. Hands clapping. Hands stretched up into the air.

Her whole being moves and her whole face is consumed with joy as she looks to the adults surrounding her. For their response. For their guidance as they too sway and sing.

His helplessness, His powerlessness. We have to be content to be in that state too.

She dances her way back and forth between her grandmother in the choir and her grandfather in the congregation, giggling as she receives hugs and bounces back to the front-

Not to be able to do anything, to accomplish anything.

to the place where she might lead us in worship.

"Then they asked him, 'What must we do to do the works God requires?' Jesus answered, 'The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent.'" - John 6:28-29

What can we do?

We can believe. We can be.

We can pray that we would be as a little girl in bright blue snowboots- knowing Christ as a babe in the manager and seeking a child-like faith.

(Italicized quote from Dorothy Day, "Works of Mercy")