This article originally published in the Feb.-Mar. 2010 issue of Deeper. For more articles on faith and family or to subscribe via e-mail to the Mom’s Moments and Deeper Newsletters, go here.

My son, Toby, turned five on January 12^th. Our family laughed over pizza at his favorite restaurant just as the whole of Port Au Prince crumbled to the ground. We didn’t learn the news until the next day when the pictures spilled from our T.V. along with a painful realization. During the chaos and death, we were celebrating life. The irony felt like a stone in my heart.

I wanted to shield Toby from Haiti’s devastation– tuck him in bed, kiss his unharmed head to sleep unburdened. But instead of peace, the thought gave me shame. I remembered Everson, a five-year-old-boy, pictured lying on a piece of cardboard in the Haitian dirt. If Everson could survive the horror in Port Au Prince, my son was strong enough to know about it. He could fight for Everson. He could fight for Haiti.

I copied a few pictures of the rubble and the one of Everson, and sat down with Toby to explain earthquakes and tragedy. It was short and simple- nothing to paralyze him in fear. He listened, awed by the extreme destruction. I prayed aloud, thanking God for the safety and comfort we enjoyed and asking Him to help the people in Haiti who had neither. Toby listened, and then ran off to play. That was that.

Before bed, we performed our usual nighttime ritual, each family member praying in turn. When we got to Toby, he thanked God for his favorite things: trash trucks and his family. Then he added “God, You know that ‘earthcrank’ in Haiti? I’m gonna need you to clean that up.” It was completely un-elegant, utterly simple. The kind of prayer that penetrates the heart of God.

A few days later, we bought aspirin and cold medicine and added it to the large collection boxes in our church lobby, bound for the under-supplied Haitian hospitals. Toby and his younger brother, Charlie, dropped our gifts into the bins with pride. Later in the car, I saw Toby’s face looking thoughtful in the rear view mirror. “What are you thinking buddy?”

“I’m praying for Haiti in my mind,” he said. My heart skipped a beat.

Like every parent, I am familiar with protecting my kids. Nothing feels better than burying their faces in my chest against any sign of doom. Only I don’t want to raise children who bury their faces when trouble comes. I want to raise children who will stand. Children who see disaster, hunger, or pain, and storm the gates of heaven like mighty warriors.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14 (NIV)

My car has 105,000 miles, and a variety of damage. One person backed into me at Target and dented my front fender. Toby opened his door against the cart return rack at Wal-Mart three different times. My side panel has a two foot scrape from either a) pulling in too close to the lawn mower or b) Toby’s bike handlebars. I don’t dwell on these imperfections. My car is always covered with dirt film anyway, so I doubt a few dings make any aesthetic impact.

Two months ago my CD player quit working. At first I was ticked, but then I remembered the hours of Kidz Bop, and suddenly it’s death seemed an act of mercy. We never listen to regular radio because there are only so many safe ways to explain “booty” to a four-year-old. We have survived on our local Christian station even though they’re a little Barry Mannilow-ish in format. (They specialize in Michael W. Smith’s early work and also every version of “Shout to the Lord.” I’m not judging. I’m just giving facts.)

I was making it, I really was. Until yesterday. It was the Christmas Preview. Non-stop Christmas music all day. I pulled out of the Church parking lot to Bing Crosby’s “Silver Bells” complete with swooning background choir. It was hideous.

I love my car. My car gets me. Even when her backseat sprouts a landfill, she never judges. She does her job like a good little sedan. Its not her fault that someone stuck a penny in her disc changer. But even I have limits. She better pray the Bing Crosby CD gets lost or it’s AutoTrader time at the Hawkins house. I’m not kidding.

“The Girl Next Door”

Actually, she lives down the street. I am not sure what manner of charms she imposed on Toby or if it is just her gloriously shiny blond hair, but he has suddenly become the pre-school version of George Clooney, flaunting three whole years of sophistication around the driveway on his swanky red trike.

He held nothing back. Her eight year old self floated gracefully up on a light purple Schwinn. Something inside him said Toby, she is special. Let her know you are a big kid. So after pointing out that her bike was “pwitty”, he reached for the all-time greatest pick-up line anyone under five ever attempted…

“Lexi, do you need to poop? Because I know how to poop in the potty.”

Bold move, little buddy. Very bold.

I have been a Christian for a long time. I have been a Christian at church camp and chorused the togetherness songs and spilled my guts and cried and hugged. I have been a Christian in college and fought against legalism! and quenching the spirit! and hypocrisy! I memorized scripture and highlighted and underlined and studied three translations. I was a Christian and I felt good and I served and I was a Christian and I felt bad and I confessed. I was a Christian who rejoiced at birth and I was a Christian who mourned at death. I worshipped when worship meant “singing”, then I worshipped when worship meant “living for God everyday”. I was a Christian in a pew, I was a Christian on an old couch, and I was a Christian in a snazzy stadium seat.

Now I am tired of being a Christian.

People are hurting so bad around me and it is killing me. Being a Christian is not enough. They have heard it all before.

What is missing, and I mean this, is Christ.

Seven Random Facts About Me:

1) I can eat a half gallon of pistachio almond ice cream in one setting.

2) I can stand on my hands for an unusually long time.

3) I HATE Chuck E. Cheese.

4) I read all seven Harry Potter books the first three weeks of Charlie’s life. (What else are you gonna do when you’re nursing, ya know?)

5) I barely ever clean our shower.

6) I went number 2 in a field during a long run one day. (It was an EMERGENCY.)

7) I was voted “Most Likely to Succeed” by my Senior class. **

**Fake Fact. I couldn’t think of anything else.

I tag Jen Stokes and Jamie Mullins.