My daughter thinks Jesus is a doctor she met once. I’ve utterly failed as a missionary and I haven’t even made it through language school yet. Granted, she’s only 2 years old, but still. Each night when I lay her down, we have a bit of a routine, where I’ll tell her that I love her, that Mama loves her, and then I’ll ask her something like “and who else loves you, someone who’s here in this room with us right now?” “Dr. Longworth?” she’ll usually say. Dr. Longworth is an albeit wonderful doctor who sees patients 2 days a week on the school campus. A really great doctor and nice guy, but (obviously) not Jesus. “No, not Dr. Longworth, he’s a really good doctor. But he doesn’t really know you, and he’s not here with us right now,” I’ll say to her. And after giving her another moment to reply, she’ll usually come up with “Jesus.”
She’s doing a little bit better on the creation front. When walking around outside we’ll frequently talk about all of things that we see, and about how Jesus made them. “Look at those mountains over there,” I’ll say to her. “Aren’t they beautiful?” “Wow, pretty” she’ll usually reply. “Who do you think made those mountains?” I’ll ask her. “Jesus,” she’ll say. Then, just this week we stepped outside, and right away she excitedly clapped her hands (one of her cutest traits right now), and said “Daddy! Look the mountains. Jesus made the mountains.” It was really pretty amazing. Not amazing that she’s learned to repeat what I’ve taught her, but just amazing to hear her say it.
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