God, Bless the Child!

When my phone rings early on Sunday mornings I know exactly who it is before I even look at the screen. I rouse myself enough to answer and half of a cute little face pops up on the screen. Then comes the big question, “Sissy, you gonna go to church wiff me?” No matter how tired I am or what other things I would rather do on a Sunday morning, how could I possibly say no to that little face?


Shortly after they were married, my best friend and her husband asked me a very big question. They asked me to be the godmother to their future children. I was beyond honored and truly touched they wanted me to play such a big role in the lives of their children. I didn’t accept the title of Godmother lightly. It meant so much to me. I knew I wanted to make sure I was an important person in that child’s life.

A couple of months later they announced they were expecting. The role of godmother became real. In the beginning, this title was strictly in the legal sense. Neither my friends or I were going to church or actively pursuing our relationships with God. Being their little boy’s godmother meant that if something happened to them I would be there to raise him. To me, it also meant that I would be another grown up to love and spoil him. I vowed to devote time and energy into making him feel like the most special boy in the world.

When the baby was born, his parents started attended church. A few months later they invited all the family to attend his church dedication service. Sitting in that congregation listening to the pastor talk about the responsibility of raising this little boy in the church and making sure he knew about God, I realized there was another aspect of my role as godmother that I wasn’t fulfilling. What would he think if he saw me not going to church? What he think if his Godmother never talked to him about God? His parents never asked me to help teach him religion, but as his godmother, I realized I had an obligation to share God with him and encourage his spiritual growth.

I didn’t know where to start sharing God with that little boy because God and I hadn’t been on good terms for quite a while. So we started small. I found some bible songs on Youtube and we had a jam session. Hearing my 1 ½-year-old godson sing “Jesus Loves Me” melted my heart. I didn’t realize it then, but I think that is when my heart started to soften a little in my relationship with God. I didn’t know that teaching my godson about how Jesus loves him would kick off a year of rediscovering my faith and healing some deep wounds.

Now I look forward to Sunday morning Facetime calls, singing together in the worship service, and talking about what he learned in Sunday school. Even when I don’t feel like going, it’s easier to just go than it is to explain why to a 2-year-old. This little boy has taught me so much more than I have taught him. He taught me that having a relationship with God is as simple as knowing Jesus loves me. He showed me that I would rather strive for faith like a child than the size of a mustard seed. Watching the world through his eyes simplifies the most complex ideas into simple concepts of love, acceptance, and faith.


Being a godmother has truly been one of the biggest blessings in my life. I love that little boy more than I can possibly say. The fact that he has me wrapped around his little finger helped me get back into church and pursuing God. I am so very thankful for him and honored to be his “Sissy.”


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