My Jesus

I have taken a long break from blogging and honestly wasn’t sure what would bring me back, but I had such strong feelings and insta-tears in the Indian restaurant near the Vegas strip tonight that I knew. I knew that tonight was the night.

I have the privilege of working with children at church. I also work with adults who teach and guide said children. At one of our planning meetings the subject of birthday gifts for the children came up. What could we gift the children from their church family for their birthday in 2026. Mostly, I sit back and listen at such meetings which is a good change for me, I believe. The older I get, the more interested I become in other people’s ideas and don’t feel quite the urgent need to have all the answers. Someone suggested “tiny Jesus dolls” and it seemed that most of the others on the text thread agreed that each of the children, aged 18 mos to 11 years would love to have a tiny Jesus that they could have and hold. Their Jesus could go with them to the playground and in their pocket on adventures; their Jesus could give them courage and be with them always.

I didn’t want a doll every year for Christmas like my mother expected me to. Maybe my sisters had chosen a new doll each year, so I followed suit for a few years, but I never liked playing with dolls. My mom worried that I might not be a nurturing mother because I did not play with dolls and seemed to not want anything to do with the dolls. I may have wondered myself. Unitil that magical moment over 36 years ago when my very own first real baby was placed in my arms. Never had I felt such strong insta-connection to anyone or anything in my entire 23 years of life. It was at that moment that I knew babies and I…we would get along just fine. I have loved them…all of them ever since!

My baby love is not associated with stuffed miniatures; replicas who wet and blink and smell of new plastic and fancy clothes with matching molded shoes. My love is for fleshy feet and squishy cheeks and the smell of heaven that comes with every baby breath. My love is for the real. My love is not pretend. My love is not make believe or wrapped up in shiny packages. My love is for the messy, the fussy the giggly the cuddly, the needy but also for the soul-sparkle that shines through those big, beautiful eyes. The eyes that follow mama and dada’s voices and seem to peer with such wonder. I could go on and on about my nearly obsessive baby love, but this post is not about my relationship with dolls or even real babies.

This post is about My Jesus. If my Jesus is not a tiny put in your pocket Jesus, then what is He? Words escape but feelings overflow. My Jesus is my everything! My feelings for him are so tender and sacred that they are difficult for me to utter. Everything I know of love I have learned because of Jesus. He has always been there. So much so that I hardly even recognized Him. I have been blessed to have His spirit with me since I was a young child. When I have had a hard time finding love or courage or faith or hope it is my Jesus who has buoyed me up. It is my Jesus who has believed in me; who has loved me and known me and helped me see my capacity and when mine has proven inadequate he has shared with me. He is always sharing. I can never lack if I am close to My Jesus.

Most of my friends played with dolls. Most of the Primary workers at church want the children to have and to love their own tiny Jesus and that is good for them. I will continue to recognize My Jesus as I have come to know Him.

Tonight, I am grateful for the text that came through with a picture of tiny Jesus at the playground. The visual was so opposite of my relationship with My Jesus that it challenged me to verbalize what Jesus has been to me. I acknowledge Him, I honor Him I hold Him sacred. He is with me, always; no pocket required.