what dis, mommy?

I have an almost two year old. He is the silliness to my days and the third love of my heart. He's in this absolutely fantastic season of "what dis, mommy?" (or daddy depending on proximity). It is his favorite question and will be asked 100 times a day.

Sounds... what dis?
Bugs... what dis?
Tools... what dis?
People... what dis?

If he doesn't have an answer stored in his 2 years of memory, we get a string of "what dis" questions. It truly is a lot of fun rediscovering the wonder of learning. Of naming things. Making one more unknown known. Conquering the mystery of everything. 
He is my front row seat to wonder. Every joyful thing at its fullest and every sad thing at its deepest. He plunges into the unknown, ready for whatever adventure lay ahead, with wide eyes and parents to answer "what dis?".

Jesus takes every opportunity to give me real life, tangible, holding-on-to-my-finger lessons from my Little. This season of "what dis?" is no different.

The other night we were driving through the yard (lots of "what dis?" happens in the yard) and after about the 50th answer I felt a heart temptation to shift to a hurried and disengaged "I don't know." I felt it for an instant and instantaneously heard my good Leader clear his throat to make a heart changing point. If I stop taking the time to observe, stop leaning in, stop examining the things that I've known for 30 years, stop naming them for the 78th time, stop being interested in the wonder in those brown eyes... If I show annoyance at this question now, if I give inconsistent answers here, if i lose interest in his interests...

I train him up to not ask me.
I train him up to not ask Jesus.

As with lots of these child-wrecks-parent Jesus lessons, this one was two-fold. Jesus spoke to me first as a parent and secondly as a child. I stopped asking Him, "what dis?" In that split second moment I was reminded that all of life is a string of adventures jumping from one "what dis?" question to the next. Emotions. Situations. Thoughts. Physical ailments. These things come into eyesight (or punch me in the gut) and I run to truth-illusions for an answer. He wants me to ask Him.

When the wails of grief come... what dis?
Shaming words from broken hearts... what dis?
Fear that I was made wrong... what dis?
Nightmares and spiritual attacks... what dis?
Living for six months in a hotel... what the heck is this, Jesus?! 

He is my star-naming, ocean-pouring, earth-gardening, angel-army-commanding King. His hands knit souls and his words separate light from dark. He is the forever-answerer. He isn't short on time. He always chooses to lean in, observe with me, and answer (even after the 78th version of the same question). He knows and sees each thing as it truly is and as it will be. In grief his answer to my heart question comes with Comfort-Presence. In shame his answer speaks to the deepest lie and my heart realigns with Truth. Fear gets kicked in the butt with a big ol' Love foot. Nightmares get called out and bound up. Still waiting on an answer for that hotel one :)

My point is that His "what dis?" answer doesn't simply communicate the name of an item like mine does. His answer reveals, realigns, and restores. His answer speaks to the true thing, not the seen thing. 

So with my newest lesson in tow I'm choosing to lean in. Into the wonder of Little's big brown eyes and into my ever-present, "what dis?" answering King.