Skuzzy

Skuzzy

When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things.

1 Corinthians 13:11

My computer, not my phone, rang. Surprised, I turned to look at the screen. A moment earlier my daughter Kari, who lives far away, and I had said, “Love you,” before we closed our video chat. Now she was calling again. After I clicked the “Accept” button, she and my two-year-old granddaughter came into view.

“Did Abigail want to say ‘’bye’ to Nana?” I smiled, remembering the first time Abigail had cried because she had missed saying good-bye to me.

“Not exactly,” Kari explained. Evidently Abigail’s knees went limp like a noodle when she noticed Kari and I had ended the video chat. She had collapsed on the floor in despair. Kari had asked, “Did you want to tell Nana ‘’bye’?”

With a contorted face Abigail had whined, “No. Want ‘’bye, Skuzzy.’ Want ‘’bye, Skuzzy.’”

Listening to Kari’s quick explanation and seeing the longing in Abigail’s eyes, I dove my hand into Skuzzy, a well-worn, purple puppet, and immediately directed kisses toward my webcam.

Abigail grinned with delight, not caring that Skuzzy’s Velcro-attached, fuzzy facial features were askew. He instantly cured her cloudy mood and made her toddler world sunny. And I realized, after saying good-bye, that my day was brighter too.

As I put my thrift-store purchase away, I considered the following truth: Abigail chose Skuzzy over me. I was not disappointed. After all, I had introduced them and developed Skuzzy’s character into who he was because of who she was.

One day Abigail will not need Skuzzy to hold her attention to the computer during Abigail-and-Nana chats. Then I will put Skuzzy away for good and acknowledge that Abigail is growing up—a bittersweet realization.

—Sue Ferguson

Father, thank you for your patience as you help me to mature in my relationship with you. Help me to put away childish ways and learn to choose you over the toys that distract me in this world. Amen.