The other day a bright orange and black Monarch butterfly flew right across my path darting to and fro enjoying the geniality of the sun.  I had to pinch myself when I first noticed it.  The calendar read December and in the snowy Arctic wasteland where I’m originally from, no self-respecting Monarch would be there now.

Observing it for several minutes brought such joy.  Butterflies speak beauty to me. This majestic one reminded me of an abundant Creator, who lovingly sprinkled His creation with such fragile splendor – just for us to enjoy.

So far, I’ve suffered little homesickness; though to be honest, I do miss my friends and some very savory Chicago food. But as I more and more enjoy a southern winter, I’m left with a better understanding of what Jesus meant in the story of the little children.  Recorded in Luke, “People were also bringing babies to Jesus to have him touch them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

There is wonderment all around us!  Too often all we see with our eyes is too much work, too much Facebook and too much responsibility.  Seeking the beauty in our world sustains hope and joy.  Finding God in the little blessings makes resting our Herculean problems in the arms of the Master Problem Solver so much easier.

I want to receive the Kingdom of God like a little child – shrieking with delight with hopeful eyes sparkling.

But usually, I don’t.  My prayers are rushed, hurried.  There are times I don’t believe God can help.  Or that He chooses not to fix my concerns.  Too often all I bring to God is a pressured desperation to mend my life.  No praise, no thanksgiving, no joy.  Just God sandwiched between a thousand responsibilities until a little butterfly drowns out this crazy world for a few moments of hushed communion with its Creator.

When did I lose this sense of discovery and curiosity with God?  At what moment did I begin to see the world as just laptops, freeways and tasks?  Why can’t I depend on the Lord with child-like trust?

This winter, I pray I will come to the Father seeking childlike hope and joy. Won’t you join me?