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On one of our summer vacations when my daughter, Mariana, was seven years old, she found a baby bird that could barely fly. She was so delighted, and she and her cousin, Daniel, spent the entire afternoon playing with the baby bird.
It was a day filled with joy. Nighttime came, and she carefully placed the little bird in a small box with some fruit for it to eat. The next morning she woke up very early and went running to see the little bird. She was devastated to find it had died during the night. She cried inconsolably, and so did Daniel. After a while, she dried her tears and said to me, “Mom, let’s pray.” I went into the room and closed the door, and we knelt to pray.
After I had finished praying, we got up, and then my daughter looked at me and said, “You don’t even seem to know how to pray.” Out of the mouth of babes! But she was right. My prayer had been formal and impersonal. “Let’s pray again!” I said.
We knelt, and I opened my heart to God. I told Him about the joy my daughter and nephew had experienced while playing with the little bird.
How she had taken care of it, and the pain she was feeling because it had died. I talked about the return of Jesus and how much she would like to have the little bird back and play with it in heaven. After I finished praying, we got up, and she looked at me and said, “Thank you, Mom.” When she left the room, she was no longer crying. When she saw her cousin crying, she asked, “Why don’t you pray too?” To which he replied, “For what? Will the little bird come back to life?” She responded, “I prayed,” as if to say that talking to Jesus had made all the difference. She went to the room and came back with a folded piece of paper.
“Keep this for me, Mom,” she said. “I want to give it to Jesus when He comes back.” I opened the paper, and she had written, “Jesus, my little bird died.” Despite her age, she knew that prayer is not memorized phrases but the opening of one’s heart to God.
She understood the hope of the resurrection.
May God help us to trust His love with the sincerity of a child’s faith.
Isabel Cristina de Almeida