We've got a runner.

By Emma

I am not a kid person anymore—but I am a nanny. I became a nanny because I am not a kid  person anymore. I’ve been in college, traveled, and been a corporate monkey; to be honest it felt like a pointless game. My minutes on the time clock were wasted on my hourly wage, but my time spent in service has always felt worthwhile.

This is how I got to be blocking the front door from an almost 8 year-old boy from running away from home. Danny’s birthday was coming up and he got rudely aggressive about his presents. In truth it was a very Dudley Dursley moment (“36…that’s two less than last year!”). (Yes, that is a Harry Potter reference.) There was crying; there was screaming. I’m sure something was thrown. It culminated in doors slamming and tears.

“He’s running away,” said a brother from the couch. The tone in his voice was more impressed at the extreme than surprised. I followed out the door. Danny turned, ran back inside, hugged his tattle-tale brother (his dramatic “I’ll miss you” was almost lost in his brother’s shoulder), and started for the door again.

I caught him there. I am still not a kid person.

There was hitting and screaming. There was crying. Two brothers and I sat and watched as Danny tried to unlock the door and leave again. Keeping him inside the house was all I could think to do—I’d only known the kid for a week.

“I want to leave! No one loves me! I don’t want to be part of this family anymore! Anywhere is better than here!”

There was some wrestling for the phone. There was more screaming. Then came the tears and  he sobbed. I held him.

It reminded me of my mother, when she held me as I screamed those same words at her. My rant hadn’t been about presents, but I suppose in hindsight my ingratitude doesn’t need to be founded in anything. I heard the same words in my head then as I did the day I held that little screaming boy who wanted to run away: if only you knew how much you are loved.

I can’t say that the little boy is better or worse. I am still not much of a kid person, but that little boy is loved by a Father in Heaven, just like me. I got to be reminded of that. That love means the world to me. I am grateful to have it. Having faith in that love makes all the difference.

John 3:16: ¶For ^aGod so ^bloved the ^cworld, that he ^dgave his ^eonly begotten ^fSon, that whosoever ^gbelieveth in him should not perish, but have ^heverlasting ⁱlife.

How has the knowledge of God's love blessed your life?