Our Sunday service had just ended, and I was on my way out when a fellow church member asked for a moment of my time. A loved one was in critical condition. One of those formidable storms had landed on the coast of her life, and demolished everything in its path. More evidence of the mystery of bad things happening to good people.

I was intent on what she was saying, but also aware of the presence of a child standing inches away from me. A quick glance in her direction revealed a precious little upturned face with sparkling eyes and a sweet smile. Her name was Jessica. She had a piece of paper in her hand that I knew was a gift for me. It was family Sunday, so all the children were in “big church”. She had occupied herself with doodlings and drawings to get her through what was to her — a very long sermon.

She glowed with anticipation, but her masterpiece would have to wait. I couldn’t possibly stop my friend in mid-sentence, hand her a tissue, and tell her I’d be right back. So I silently held up one finger, acknowledging my wide-eyed little shadow. I doubted she’d have the patience to wait. Surely something or someone would grab her attention and off she’d go.

At least five minutes passed while I gathered the necessary information, hugged and prayed for my friend. With a mind full of questions and a heart full of heaviness, I gathered my things and headed toward the door.

“Ms. Lyn! Ms. Lyn!” came the tiny little voice.

I’d been so distracted, I didn’t realize that Jessica had never left my side. I walked back, knelt down to her level, and gave her a big hug.

“Thank you for being so patient, Honey. What do you have for me?” I asked as she proudly handed me a page from her tablet.

To my surprise, it wasn’t the doodles and drawings of a bored little girl enduring a lengthy church service. Nor was it the predictable house, tree, and sun that typify elementary school art. It was a beautifully written letter with perfectly formed characters and properly spelled words, neatly bordered by a row of hearts and stars. As impressive as the mechanics were, it was one line that took my breath.

“I love you very much, Lyn. I love you in my life and in my heart.”

Sometimes it takes the simplistic, straight-forwardness of a child to bring us back to where we belong. The message of love always lightens the heaviness and delivers a gift of hope. This particular expression of love, penned by a five-year-old, is a true work of art to me. For now, it’s displayed on my refrigerator. When it’s time, however, it will go from the frig to my Memories File. This one is a keeper.

At home, I read the letter through three times and wonder why it’s having such a huge impact on me. After all, it isn’t my first love letter from a child, so why the fuss over this one? Then it hits me.

Jessica and Jesus. Jesus and Jessica.

How quickly the two have become one. Jessica reminds me of the countless times Jesus has waited patiently for me to give him attention; never leaving my side, though I’ve left his. She causes me to reflect on the times He’s had to run after me, because I’ve turned away — preoccupied with the cares of the world. Her sweet voice reminds me of the few, but invaluable times I’ve heard Jesus call my name, and the tears that love-filled voice evoked. And then there’s the gift. How often He appears in the midst of my heaviness with gift in hand. The perfect present at the perfect time.

Now I have love letters from both Jessica and Jesus. Each has a beautiful way of expressing their hearts in writing. One is displayed on a page from a kindergarten-writing tablet. The other is engraved on the tablet of an undeserving but grateful heart. Both carry the same amazing message. “I love you, Lyn. I love you in my life and in my heart.”

Theologians have studied the character and nature of Jesus for centuries. Pastors, priests, and evangelists strive Sunday after Sunday to portray His mystifying love. But that day, it took an innocent, unknowing child to bypass the religious rhetoric and BE the patient and pursuing love of Jesus.

What a blessed woman I am today. Jessica and Jesus love me in their life and in their heart.

I wonder how it can get any better than this.