Sometimes I am 5

The one thing I have learned in the last few years is how to be middle of the road...which comes down to not judging. You hold your "own" value system and are subjected, by the media, to view many other opinions, amongst the world, your family, your friends, your peers. I have always tried to give many the benefit of the doubt...and have also been naive enough to think that most people tell the truth. I have, in my lifetime, been called gullible. Once, my Mom told me the word was plastered on my forehead...lol. I couldn't fault her...she was right. However, over the years, as much as I am strong, there is the naive part of me that relates to the innocence of a child. Sometimes I am 5.

I have never believed there was one singular viewpoint on anything;however, the rigid, ultra-conservative, legalistic personality has no room in my world. As Christians, we, as disciples of Christ, should be tolerant of those who do not view the world as we do. The only thing we can do is teach by example. How are we to walk the same walk as Jesus if we do not love 'everybody?' I have been challenged in the past year to be tolerant; toward the one who hurt. Sometimes I am 5.

Throughout my life I understand that I, along with millions of other people have suffered. Life means growing, and struggle is necessary for growth. Albeit the maturation of my own being, there is still the little girl in me looking for acceptance. But the really cool thing? Even this mature woman who understands her five year old within knows, that God is my acceptance, my salvation. It doesn't matter who I present to the world....the mature woman, or the child within me who engages all in her path. I kinda like me at 5. I had no worries, I was happy and all proof of that was the receipt of my "Susie" doll at Christmas.

When I am 5, I believe all which is told me. My mother always said it is wrong to lie. When I am 5, I listen to the adult talk and wonder what it would be like to be an adult. When I am 5, I remember touching the skin of my Aunt Florence, who had the silkiest face I can recall. I miss the touch, but I have the memory. Sometimes I am 5.

I think I like the memory of my 5 year old...she comforts me. She brings me the peace of innocence. As an adult, I look up to God to give me the comfort of the 5 year old child within me.

Oh, sometimes I am 5...because by the time I was 9 all hell broke loose...