Sign Language Theology
Creamy banana mash glistens from his dimpled cheeks and soft forehead, as he catches my eye.
Zealously signing “More, more,” he pumps plump two-year-old hands together, while clenching a half-eaten banana.
In delight, I kiss the top of my new nephew’s blond head and happily hand him bits of red pear. My scuffed cherry table-top shines with sticky fruit residue, and I am charmed by big eyes and dimpled fists signing, “More more.”
In a red highchair with fruit, my nephew’s actions are innocent and cute, but I’m struck today by how much that looks like me.
In a landscape strewn with sweet gifts of life, family, marriage and friends, I am struck by how often I sign “More, more” to my Abba Daddy. Clutching what he’s given me in one hand, I sometimes forget and think I need more.
“Don’t be deceived, my brothers. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Heavenly Lights who does not change like shifting shadows.”
I’m slow to learn some days, clutching gifts in one hand and signing “more.” I’m so thankful for a patient Father of Heavenly Lights, who loves me, delights in me, and trains me.
What is he teaching you this week?
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Linking with Ann at A Holy Experience.