There is something special about being the one that tucked babies into cribs and remembers what they were like before they could talk.
I spent last weekend in Chicago with the kids I used to nanny, and the youngest kept asking me: “Did I always laugh this way? Was I always able to roll my tongue like this?” What a gift to be so deeply rooted in who they are.
Reading quality literature like “Who Took My Hairy Toe?” was always a favorite pastime. Whenever I visit, we dig the old book out of the pile. And though they’ve heard the story a hundred times, they still cuddle up and pretend to be scared at all the right parts.
As these kids attempt to maneuver this crazy world, I’m happy to be the one to bring familiarity to the scene.
Interacting with children continues to teach me more about God’s awesome love for us. I love the tangible reminder that although December has thrown some curveballs, my roots go deep with the One that knows me best.
Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness.