“Mommy, when is God going to heal you completely?”

The question came out of the blue at our dining table, between mouthfuls of couscous being shoveled into his mouth. His eyes lingered a bit on his spoon before they drifted up to meet mine.

S and I were home alone on this hot, lazy Thursday afternoon, recovering from yesterday’s epically long day. Our delicious lunch was brought to us by a sweet friend down the street, which we were enjoying when S randomly popped the question.

It caught me off guard. Heal me completely…it sounded like such a mature question, a little too specific for a 5-year-old’s mind to consider. I froze for a moment before scooting my chair closer, and drew a deep breath.

“I wish I knew…but I don’t. Only God knows. But I hope it will be soon!”

“But why doesn’t he answer our prayers?”

“Well, God is always with us when we pray, and he hears all of our prayers and cares for us very much. Even if he doesn’t give us what we want or ask for, he is doing it because he has a good reason for it, and because he loves us.”

I went on to explain how even Jesus had a request in his prayers regarding the cross. He asked to be spared, but asked that not his will, but God’s, be done. And God’s will was for Jesus to die on the cross. I had S think about how it must’ve made God feel to see his son weep like that, and have to watch him endure such suffering. Even though neither of them wanted this, they knew there was no other way to rescue creation from sin.

Good—great good—coming out of pain.

S’s eyes were locked into mine through the whole narrative. I could sense from his eyes, he got it. I then circled it back to me and our family, and how even if God doesn’t answer our prayers to make me all better, he still has a magnificent plan for us because we are his children, and there is no need to worry.

“In fact, none of us will be 100% healed until we get to heaven!”

“Yeah!,” he said, “from sin!”

“Exactly! Our sinful hearts, and our broken bodies.”

We had such an amazing little chat, going so far as to even discussing the trinity (“is it like our family? How we are three—you, me and Daddy—but we are one, in the same family?”) and ending on the sweet truth of how secure we are as chosen children of God.

My heart was bursting. There were two emotions going on: one of great joy and gratitude, seeing this 5-year-old siting in front of me that I get the privilege to call mine, whose young mind so clearly grasps the concept of the broken world we live in and our need for a savior. The other, of heavy sorrow, wondering if God led me into this conversation to prepare him for what lies ahead. Will he remember back to these words one day when I’m gone?