I found this singular child’s playhouse along a bright afternoon’s walk in my neighborhood. The preciousness of love borne by the parents who provided it took my heart directly to something that Jesus said in Matthew 18:2-4 (NIV): “He called a little child and had him stand among them. And He said: ‘I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”

I thought about the little ones playing in this sweet structure, under the fine protective eye of their mother or father. The chair had been placed just outside the wonderful gift--made perfectly ready for the sitting, standing, or running of a parent--always as a response to the child’s needs. The upkeep on the miniature home was impeccable. It had the kitchen setting for early adventures in hospitality with playmates. A lovely tree graced its landscaping for shade, and also to mark its place in a deep rooting of love. A flower box was built for the season of germination, and for the study of how seedlings grow and become strong. A front porch light covered the threshold for safety. And the place was painted in the varied and festive colors that most likely would be rejected for an adult’s home. I noticed that it had no numerical address, as the inhabitants were assured of being found by the ones who had constructed it.

How were the children inside this mini-structure to give us lessons on being citizens in the kingdom of heaven?

At the very first, I saw that they were playing at the lessons of growing-up. Also, they weren’t worrying about many things: household upkeep, the paperwork over who held the deed on the property, the hours of labor to support their residence. They knew that safety was a shout away. They bustled about only thinking of the present. Fretting did not fill the sound of their occupation--but singing did. They had unquestioning trust in the provider. Their home was not a bunker against friends—but a place of welcome to other children. They were blessedly happy with gratitude over knowing their benefactor and that it was their parent’s love that had brought all of these gifts to their hearts-bounty. They knew that with their own resources none of these things could be possible. They lived humbly needing to be tended to by ones so much bigger and so much more capable than they were. But still it was quite clear that they were to learn well from those who had covered them in love, and hope, and life giving care from the beginning.

As adults, all of these responsible things must concern us, but I believe that Jesus’ example with the little child was to remind us that even as an adult, we should hold onto these things with the little hands that have been taught to know of the mighty right arm of the One Who essentially owns it all--that the ultimate trust is not in our (beautiful to Him) making-hands, but in the Hand of the Creator who guides our hands to mature in Him. We are to work wisely as the little-ones play--made safe by Him, full of thanks, with expansive friendship toward others, with students’ hearts that have studied how things grow best, giving natural praise in the song of our voices, and with the festive colors of encouragement showing both on the inside and the outside. We are to be ultimately sure that our Father sits with us, stands for us, and runs to us from just outside our little domiciles. Trust permeates us over the Present that He is to us in each present moment--so much so, that he hears the songs of praise over how He does all things well--in all our conditions.

I was still thinking about the address missing over the tiny playhouse. It came to me as a flourish of wonder from the passage in Matthew 18. The Father writes over the lintel of such a household: The Greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven Lives Here~~A Child of God. And laughter rolled out of my soul as I thought of the heavenly crayon-colored love-letters that would arrive in the mail of such a humble-little-one!