When I Jump

Emerald was two. She was at that invincible phase of life when she saw no reason to worry about the consequences of her actions. She seemed to feel certain that no act could hurt or kill her, and that everything would turn out just fine, no matter what death-defying feat she was currently involved in. One night while I was getting the bigger kids into their beds, Emerald climbed up on a footstool in their room. I could feel her standing there near me, surveying this kingdom from her unusually tall perch.

Adelade and I were looking toward the opposite corner of the room, counting the weeks until summer according to her Frozen calendar. Suddenly, Emerald jumped off of the footstool, hurling herself at me as if I were prepared to catch her. In seconds she had essentially bounced off of me and hit the floor. I didn’t even have a chance to try and soften the impact of her fall. One moment she was on the stool, and the next she was on her back.

She wasn’t hurt, but it did scare her. While she cried, I couldn’t help but laugh just a little bit at her lack of reasoning skills. She really didn’t attempt in any way to decide whether I was looking her way or not. She didn’t notice that I had no clue that I was supposed to catch her. She just figured, “When I jump, Mama catches me.” And she jumped.

I want that kind of faith in my God. My Father, the one who never looks away, who is never distracted or caught off-guard. I want the kind of faith that sends me soaring--the kind that says with all the confidence in the world, “When I jump, He catches me.”

I want all of my children to grow that kind of faith in their Savior. Faith that sees that mamas aren’t always just where they need to be, but Jesus is there, every single time. Faith that shows them the realities of the never- changing nature of a good God who sees all and knows all.

I want this faith to grow in us, even while we fall on our faces here and there. While we work through our desire to do things on our own. While the Holy Spirit of God reminds us in His gentle way that we’re caught safe in God’s hand, never to be snatched away. I want this faith to bloom inside us and grow until it cannot be ignored, not by us and not by this world.

I want this faith to look radical and dangerous. I want for us to jump, far and strong, with no doubt at all that His faithfulness is there, like a mother’s waiting arms.

Like a mother who isn’t engrossed in the Frozen calendar.

When I jump, He catches me. He always catches me.