Careless Abandon

Every Tuesday and Thursday I play the piano for a choir of very...lively...eighth graders. It's always fun to watch how different their personalities are. Some are quiet and deep, others exactly the opposite, and among everyone else there's a range that's everything in-between.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, while all of the other kids run to the music rack to put their folders away, one girl stays behind. Her name is Elisha, and she inspires me.

"Hi, guys!" she smiles at the choir director and I. She then proceeds to inquire as to how the former choir director is doing (he had an accident last fall and is still recovering) and ask who is going to have the honor of singing the solo in "Mighty to Save" at the spring concert. She asks these questions every single time I'm there.

She always brings something to share with us, like a little craft project she made in elementary school, an origami frog she made in art class, or her diary. She usually tells me that I'm a wonderful accompanist as she strolls away. She never says good-bye. And, last Thursday as she was leaving, she walked away saying, "You're an awesome accompanist. I love you! I love you guys!"

Elisha has autism, but there was a part of me that almost wanted to be jealous of her as she walked away on Thursday. She is so unafraid of being bold and honest, and completely unafraid of loving us and letting us know that she does. Where we all have natural human tendencies to back off, be understated and hide the things we feel, those inhibitions don't exist in her world. I almost think that she's better off for it.

When Jesus calls us to be "childlike," it seems to me that this is exactly what he's talking about. How many of us are actually allowing ourselves to fall into His arms and rest there, trusting in His every word and not letting ourselves be plagued by fears of what the rest of the world thinks about what He tells us to do? I'm certainly not worthy of being put into that category. But I'd like to be someday.

And a little girl in eighth grade who many would see as handicapped is already miles ahead of me.