He has often stirred us from our sleep with some weird and wacky declarations. One morning we were greeted with: "Wouldn't it be cool if we had eyebrows on our cheeks and nose". Shortly after that we were dragged from our slumber with: "Where do Farms come from?"
Or how about this stunning observation:
JACOB: How Old are You Dad?
ME: 45
JACOB: When I'm 45 my nipples will be 45 too.I don't know how long he lays there thinking about these things, but I do know I'm having trouble finding a good therapist who specialises in rehabilitating mutant children. I'm convinced his oddity comes from his mother's side (my wife has a different opinion, but I'm sure you don't want to hear about that).
But through the quirkiness, out of the murkiness comes a delightful little chap who somehow knows how to tug at heart strings. He makes us smile. We marvel at his creative streak. Give him scissors, selotape, a pile of recycling material, and a half eaten ham sandwich, and he will make you a one-of-a-kind work of art worth hanging over the mantlepiece (at least until the flies become too noisy). I love him.
I suspect my Heavenly Father views me with the same eyes. I guess I've got my own weird and wacky personality traits, an odd ball with puzzling questions, who makes Him smile. At least, I hope He smiles more than I make Him grimace or gaze with disbelief at my decisions and actions. But, despite my shortcomings, the real beauty of that whole relationship is that I know He's there and loves me.
