Broken

A few weeks ago, Abby overheard Joe and I talking about brokenness within ourselves and sin. We had no idea how intently she was listening to our conversation while she played with her ABC magnets on the fridge. Abby jumped right into the middle of our conversation. 

Abby: Daddy broken? 
Joe: Yes Abby. Daddy is broken. That's one reason I need Jesus.
Abby:  Mommy broken too? 
Jen: Yes. Mommy is broken too. 
Abby: Need Jesus? 
Jen: Yes! I definitely need Jesus. Jesus fixes our broken hearts. 
Abby: Abby broken? 
Joe: Yes. Abby's broken too. 
Abby: Abby need Jesus? 
Jen: Yes. Abby needs Jesus too. 
Abby: Jesus fix my broken heart. 

That moment was such a precious little gift from God to us and a tangible reminder of childlike faith.

Fast forward a few days. Our car had been in the shop for about a week because of an accident we had been in and Joe had just brought it home. When we got Abby in the car to head to the store, she was a ball of questions.


Abby: Blue car back home? 
Joe: Yes. Our blue car is back home. 
Abby: Still broken? 
Joe: No, it isn't broken anymore. They fixed it. 
Abby: Not broken? Jesus fixed it? 

So sweet. She has been applying and trying to understand the idea of being broken and Jesus fixing things ever since.


Finally, last week I was slowly waking up, when Abby came running over to our radio alarm clock shouting:

Abby: Music, music mommy. 
Me: Not yet, Abby. No music right now. It's too early. 
Abby: Mommy, Jesus music. 
Me: Not yet, Abby. In a little while. 
Abby (with hand over her chest): Mommy, my heart hurts. I need Jesus.  

Done. Music on. Mommy is up and out of bed. Couldn't ask for a better start to the day.