Depression Meets Innocence

Fluffy white clouds danced capriciously in the brilliant blue sky. In the long-forgotten wonder of my youth, I may have spent hours laying in the meadow giving their shapes names and allowing my imagination to run rampant. Yet now, even as I sat amongst the tall, velvet-soft grass, I failed to marvel at its quiet caress on my skin, or its vibrant green hue which varied minutely as the sun glanced off the individual blades while they swayed with erratic grace in the light, warm breeze.

Before me, the bubble and gurgle of gently flowing water where it encountered rocks and logs created a hypnotic melody in which I could nearly forget the trials, the pains, the frustrations of attempting this thing called life.

I wished to long for the awe that had pervaded my younger years, but despite the promise of happier days if I could return to that place, the effort was more than I could contemplate. So, I merely sat. Sat and watched and listened. Tears fell, unbidden from eyes which should have long ago run dry from their incessant outpouring.

"Why are you crying?" The sound of the child's voice beside me caused me to jump and a startled gasp escaped me, as though her words had instead been a kick in the chest. I dragged the heels of my hands across my face quickly, ashamed, although I couldn't exactly say why.

Turning my head, I squinted up at the little intruder. She couldn't have been more than five, with grass and dirt stains on her simple pink dress that belied an exuberance for adventure which resonated deeply with the echo of my own childhood. With her tiny, dirt-covered hands clasped behind her, she twisted back and forth, waiting for the answer to her question with an unwavering, innocent scrutiny.

My shoulders lifted in a noncommittal shrug. "I don't know," I responded. It wasn't really a lie, but to receive a longer answer would confuse the girl and expose her to a pain I desperately hoped she never learned to feel.

"Are you sad?" She plopped into the grass beside me and I raised an eyebrow, casting a glance backwards in search of her guardian, wondering if I should be worried about this child out here on her own.

"Sometimes." I said, turning my attention back to the tiny interloper. "Is your mommy or daddy close by?"

Her strawberry braids flapped around her cheeks as she shook her head. "Mommy and Daddy died."

Tears threatened to reappear in my eyes as my already weary heart broke under the weight of this petite stranger's pronouncement. Blinking rapidly, I focused on a particularly long blade of grass between us, trying to formulate a response that felt more sincere than "I'm sorry."

I was saved from my internal vernacular struggle by her continued commentary.

"Grandma comes with me to the park now, but she's not as fast as mommy was." Her eyes met mine earnestly.

"No," I said, attempting a light tone, but undoubtedly failing, "grandmas aren't usually as fast as mommies."

"My mommy and daddy are with Jesus now." I tried not to roll my eyes at this line that was often fed to the grieving, feeling unnecessary resentment at her grandmother for filling her young head with such nonsense. "Sometimes I wish they were still with me instead." Her round, cherub-like cheeks lost their glow as her features fell for a moment.

I groaned internally. Just my luck to end up with a gloomy, orphaned kid next to me when I hoped to be alone with my own downtrodden thoughts today. I didn't even have energy to find encouragement for myself. What the heck was I supposed to do for her?

In a turn of emotion strong enough to induce mental whiplash, her head popped back up and the smile returned to her face and she looked at me. "But Jesus helps me not be sad."

"Oh, really?" I asked with barely contained skepticism and acrimony, recalling people from my past who claimed the same thing. "Did your grandma tell you that?"

The annoyance of my tone escaped her. "No. Well, yes, but Jesus told me first." Her matter-of-fact response gave me pause. I'd done the Sunday School thing as a little kid. I knew the stories about a baby born in a stable who grew up, did some miracles and then died. But that's all they'd ever proven to be, in my experience – stories.

"You think Jesus talked to you?" What a weird conversation this was turning into.

She nodded enthusiastically.

Fine, I'll play along. At least it will make for an amusing story to recall someday, if I even learn to feel amused again, I thought.

"And what did Jesus tell you?"

"He woke me up and told me that Mommy and Daddy were going to live with him now, and that if I ever felt sad because they weren't there that I could tell him, and he'd help me not be sad anymore."

Mm-hmm. So, what likely happened was an adult woke her up and told her that her parents died and then her Grandmother filled her head with fairytales to help her feel better.

I became aware of the intensity of her curious eyes on my face. How pathetic I felt when I couldn't meet the gaze of a five-year-old.

"Jesus can help you not to be sad too," she finally said.

I offered a woeful smile. "I don't think so, kid." The blade of grass I'd been twisting around my fingers finally broke and I let it drop from my grasp.

The girl rose to her knees and shifted to face me, undoubtedly grinding in another stain that would be impossible for her grandmother to get out of that dress. "Just believe here." Her little hand shot out to lay over my heart. I inhaled sharply, looking at the place her hand rested. It was hard for me to believe that a static shock had zapped us with all of the moisture in the air, but there had been an undeniable zing when her dirt-covered hand contacted my old t-shirt.

"Violet?" A frantic voice called in the distance. "Violet, where are you?"

The little girl hopped to her feet, as though whatever had happened in that previous moment had no effect on her. "Oops, that's my grandma. I gotta go." With a wave, she turned and shouted back to her grandmother, leaving me speechless, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. What in the world had just happened? I watched the child run full force into the arms of an older woman who had come around the sharp bend in the path.

Sure that she was about to get a lecture for running so far out of sight, I turned away, refocusing my attention on the tiny, dirt handprint on my shirt. As I replayed the encounter in my head, I struggled to make sense of the rush of emotions surging through me in ways I hadn't felt in a very long time, if ever. I was so lost in the moment that I didn't hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet coming to a halt beside me.

"I forgot to tell you!" The girl – Violet, apparently – exclaimed.

"Tell me what?" I didn't think anything she could say would shock me at this point.

She looked past me, to the open space on the other side of me. "Jesus is here to help you not be sad."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. And the sound surprised me because it wasn't hostile or sardonic, but actually carried an undercurrent of – what was that feeling? Was that hope? "Really? Like, what, he's sitting next to me?"

She gave her signature enthusiastic nod, looking past me once more, as though she were intent on something. However, as I followed her gaze, I saw nothing but tall grass and small, white wildflowers.

I swiveled my head back to the odd little girl, who wore a gigantic grin across her face. "You just have to open your eyes!" She placed her grimy fingers over my eyes for a moment, as though she were playing some strange form of peek-a-boo and then bounded away, back to her grandmother.

"Violet!" The woman chided, before meeting my confused look as I watched the little girl retreat once more. "I'm so sorry about that." Capturing Violet's hand, she turned them back in the direction from which she'd emerged. "God bless you!" She called before they walked away.

"Huh." I huffed as I watched them go for a moment, baffled by the entire encounter.

Turning back towards the water, I gasped and nearly toppled over at the shock of a man sitting next to me. As I looked at him though, all the turmoil inside of me began to dissipate and I gasped at the relief of the burden I'd never been able to offload lifting away from me. All I could do was stare into his kind, loving eyes for a moment as I felt my torn and tattered emotions beginning to knit themselves back together.

"Are you here to help me not be sad?" I whispered.

His smile was warm as he replied, "Yes, and so much more."