‘Mary Who Flies’ and Lessons from a Preschooler on Childlike Faith
By Jessica Brodie
When my daughter was three years old, I took her and her brother on a road trip across the state. At that age she was sometimes a grumpy passenger, but I happened to glimpse in my rearview mirror to see her waving very happily at the sky outside her window.
I tried to figure out what she saw—a bird? A low-flying helicopter? I didn’t see anything.
“What are you waving at, baby?” I asked
“Mary,” she answered matter-of-factly.
“Mary?”
“Mary who flies,” she said, as though I knew exactly who she meant.
I raised an eyebrow. “Who is ‘Mary who flies’?”
“Jesus‘s mommy. You know, Mama.”
That caught my attention. “You can see her, right now?”
But she was over the conversation and turned her attention to the book in her lap, and I got nothing more out of her.
I knew exactly who Jesus’s mommy, the Virgin Mary, was. I grew up a Christian, so there were the actual Bible stories, plus I used to read all sorts of interesting stories about children who’d miraculously encountered the Virgin Mary. (If you’ve seen the movie Fatima, which was outstanding, you know what I mean.)
But we’re not Roman Catholic, and other than a brief mention and some of Avery’s Bible story books about the birth of Christ, Mary the mother of Jesus didn’t figure terribly prominently in our discussions. Obviously she was mentioned, but when we talked about God, we typically talked about God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit and not too much else.
Why was my daughter seeing the mother of Jesus in the sky, waving down at her, and she knew exactly who this woman was?
Why couldn’t I see her?
My daughter was a creative kid, but this was beyond her scope, I was certain.
Now, I have long been convinced that kids—being younger, more innocent, much more open-minded than often-jaded adults—have a deeper connection to the spirit world. It’s one of the most beautiful things about childhood. I don’t doubt that Avery saw the mother of Jesus, Mary Who Flies, waving at her from the sky—I’m sure she did.
I wish I’d seen her.
The whole experience got me thinking about faith and what it means to have the genuine, unfiltered, pure faith of a child. My daughter is now 13, and 10 years later I still get chills thinking about this.
In Matthew 5:8, Jesus said, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (NIV).
And in Matthew 19:14, he chastised his disciples who were about to turn the children away as they sought a blessing, saying, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”
Before the fall, Adam and Eve were like that in the Garden of Eden. As Scripture tells us, “Adam and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame” (Genesis 2:25).
What a glorious thing.
It’s been many years since I was a child, but I still try my best to cling to that open, wholesome innocence. It is truly one of my favorite things in life—to look at the world with eyes wide and surprised and be fully amazed at all the wonder around me. I hope I never lose that. In spite of pain, in spite of struggles, in spite of difficult times I’ve encountered in my life many, many times, I still cling to that.
But in truth, as much as I love and crave that perspective, I know my heart has hardened over the years. I know I’m a long way from that perfect innocent soul I started out with in this life.
I have a funny feeling heaven will bring me right back to that perspective.
I wish I’d seen Mary Who Flies that day. But I’m thankful my daughter did.
And I’m thankful her experience reminded me of who I’m not, what I aspire to be, and what I believe Jesus will restore me to when He one day brings me home to our Father’s house.
Innocent. Open. Filled with childlike faith.
And able to see Mary Who Flies.