I read some time ago that this stage can be difficult for a child, as she has far more to express than she has vocabulary. It can be frustrating for a toddler to be thirsty and want her juice and be unable to make a slow adult understand this. She may only know to say “yum yum,” and to her that is a clear expression of her desire – but to me, it is a clear expression of anything food-related.
As someone with a few more words than Little Lady, I am often humored with how she puts words together to convey something – and I am more often humored with how I misunderstand her.**
For about six weeks now, she has been using her numbers (one-two-three-four-five) as a means of expressing any distress or unhappiness. Little Lady is a happy child, but she is – after all – a toddler. She is testing boundaries and learning about the world. She fares better than many toddlers, I suspect, but when she’s not feeling well or is overtired, her emotions overwhelm her (another gift she picked up from her momma).
It is not uncommon, in one of these overtired moments of emotion, for Little Lady to have a complete fall-apart and cry “one-two-three-four-fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!” As parents, it is exceptionally difficult to stifle our laughter when she does this. We manage by sheer determination to take her emotions seriously so she will always feel safe in sharing with us. Someday, we will laugh with her about it; right now, we choose to receive the emotion and not engage the humor. Or… we try.
But as we experience this over and over, God whispers to my spirit, teaching me some very important things about myself and about Himself.
When I consider the vastness of creation – not only here on our beautiful planet, but throughout the heavens – the concept of vocabulary seems particularly small. For all the beautiful words stored up in my brain and their ability to communicate to others, they are, in comparison to the Almighty, akin to “one-two-three-four-five.” And for all that limitation, God never condemns my tears; never sends me away; never waits for me to learn “the right words.” He accepts me. He understands me. He comforts me. He holds me.
And for all God’s limitless vocabulary, Paul tells us that He not only accepts and understands our blather, but even more – He sets this example for us: It’s okay to not have words. Sometimes it can even be in accordance with God’s will.
22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. 23 Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? 25 But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
26 In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. 27 And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.
Romans 8, emphases mine
Creation is groaning.
We are groaning.
The Spirit groans as He intercedes for us in accordance with God’s will.
Sometimes our lives – both our emotions and our experiences – are enormously greater than our vocabulary. Where is the shame in it? There is none. Whether joy or sorrow, beauty or vileness, fellowship or isolation, sometimes the truest thing we can say is, “there are no words,” or “I can’t describe it,” or “I’m speechless.” Sometimes the truest prayer we can pray is to fall on our faces and weep wordless petitions to our Father.
I’ve been praying a lot of those prayers lately – the kind that are baptized in tears and have no words, except, “Jesus, please…”
But I’ve also been whispering a lot of this kind of prayer, too: “Lord, You must be sick of hearing me cry about this.” It has taken much for me to understand that He is not sick of me. He is not weary of my sorrow. He longs to carry me through it.
And He longs to carry you, also, friend. Whatever you’re facing, whatever you’re feeling, whatever words you have or don’t have – He loves you and understands all you’re experiencing. He knows the heartache. He knows the loss. He knows the anger. He knows the longing. He knows the weariness. He knows the insecurity. He knows the fear. He knows the pain. He knows. And He loves you – right there in the center of it all. It may be that the only words you have are to cry out, “one-two-three-four-fiiiiiiiiiive,” but He hears and accepts that prayer. His Spirit searches your heart and mind, and He cries out, “one-two-three-four-fiiiiiiiiiiiive” in prayer for you.
Someday we may have bigger, better words. For today, what you have is perfectly acceptable to your Father. He hears and receives you.
From my heart to yours,
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