stored in my heart

I had the pleasure of putting Grey to bed tonight. He has a very rigid bedtime routine that we stick to every single night. It doesn't always happen at the same time every night, but when he goes to bed we do the same thing. The same thing every single night. 


So tonight things went pretty normally. We read a book, turned off the light, talked for a few minutes about whatever he needed to get out of his head to settle down. We thanked God for every person he saw today, every place he stepped foot, and each article in his bedroom. Now comes the good part. 


For about two years now we religiously sing Twinkle Twinkle Wittle Staw and Baa Baa Black Sheep right before he requests a back scratch and some cuddling. The past few weeks I've actually been able to deter him from the oh so redundant songs mentioned above and delved into a new phase of Jesus Loves the Little Children and Jesus Loves Me! I am absolutely thrilled on the nights I put him to bed. 


On with it! So I decided to sing the second verse of Jesus Loves Me and it goes a little something like this...

Jesus loves me! He who died,

On the cross was crucified; {I can't decide if I made this line up}
He will wash away my sin,
Let His little child come in.
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Bible tells me so

As I was singing, Grey's bottom lip started poking out. Then quiet tears rolled down his cheeks and was followed by, "Stop Mommy! Don't sing that!" I stopped singing and asked why he was so sad. 

He went on to tell me that those words made him very sad and he asked "why did Jesus have to die?" Wow. What a question. I went on to explain to him that we are sinners and this separates us from God from birth. Then the tears began rolling down my cheeks. I noticed that he just kept crying. A silent sort of cry.

The tears ceased when I explained that was God's plan for Jesus to die because we needed a Savior. He was the perfect sacrifice for our sins. That was the absolute most perfect thing that could have happened BUT Jesus is not still dead. He is alive.

Grey's response with a smile, "Yeah Mommy. The men went to find him in the tomb and he wasn't there!"

Words cannot describe the emotion my heart felt when seeing my not-quite-three-year-old experience a sorrow for Jesus' death. I do know that it was a not-quite-three-year-old's limited understanding of what that entails, but he seemed to process the gospel in a different way tonight. In a way that gives me hope that his heart is beginning to understand who we are and who Jesus is.

I will hold this moment very close to my heart always and tell him about it one day.