A few weeks ago, I met with my friend, Manuel Mercedes, and he told me a story about the course he was about to take. I began to think about the power of stories and how stories have shaped the lives of so many people for so long.

So, I began to think, "Out of all the stories I could tell, which story do I want to tell today?"

When I was 4 years old, my great-grandmother passed away. It was a really difficult time for my family. For my family, Mama Sira was the one who held the family together. This was a truly heartbreaking time. I remember the whole neighborhood gathered on the block to mourn her. They all knew Mama Sira and loved her. There was a lot of weeping and sorrow.

I was close with Mama Sira, but I was also just 4 years old. I saw my family weeping, and I could not really understand why. I tried to cry--in the little mind of a 4-year-old--but the tears would not come out.

Some of my aunts were so shaken, and they would look at me and say, "She died! Don't you understand? She loved you so much.'

The truth is, I didn't understand. I didn't understand what dying meant, and I didn't understand why they were so sad.

I vividly remember trying to pretend like I was sad when I really wasn't. I wasn't happy about it either. I just didn't have an emotional response to what had just happened. I didn't understand what had happened, and I didn't have a grid to understand it.

A few days later, when I was playing on the block of the neighborhood, I thought about Mama Sira and missed her. I wanted to go see her, but I didn't know where she was. I couldn't find her anywhere, and all I could remember was that they said she died.

Since they said she had died, I thought that if I wanted to see her I needed to die too. I walked down the block and saw a plant with big leaves. I ate of the plant, thinking to myself that this would certainly kill me. I would die and see Mama Sira right away. It is amazing the kind of imagination that can go on in a little 4 year old's mind.

I ate the plant, but nothing happened. I thought it didn't work. When I arrived at the house, what I had eaten came up out of me in vomit. My family did not know why I had thrown up. They didn't know what was going on through my mind. I didn't die. I didn't see my great grandmother. But, I sure had tried.

I like to remember that story and tell it because it reminds me of the innocence of a child. In the Gospels, we are called to be childlike. It is important to make the distinction here that being childlike is not the same as being childish.

So often we forget about being childlike. If you think back to my story, there were certain things I did that showed how child like I was.

Firstly, I didn't react to the situation in the same way everyone else did. I certainly felt the pressure to do it, but ultimately, I held my emotions and composure. I didn't have a "low differentiation," as we would say in family therapy, nor was I "cut-off" from the situation.

It is important to be who we are in the midst of chaos. This applies not only to day-to-day situations but even in the midst of all the turmoil going on in our nation. It is important that we remain who we are. It is important that we don't cave under peer pressure, and it is important that we keep our composure.

Secondly, I created a simple solution when I felt a genuine concern. This solution--even though wrong--was genuine. I reacted to the death of my great grandmother the only way I knew. My reaction was genuine, and it didn't come from outside pressures.

Thirdly, I was willing to die. Whereas everyone else saw death as something to be sad about, I saw it as a joyful time where I would get to see my great grandmother again. I'm not supporting suicide here, but rather, I am speaking figuratively. I didn't know what I was doing as a 4-year-old clearly, but I know I was willing to die.

I wonder how willing we are to die to our own flesh, desires, wants and dreams. I wonder if we could look at this death as something joyous. I wonder if we would be confident and focused on what happens after the death rather than the death itself. I wonder how willing we are to be childlike in this way.

I want to be childlike. I want to see the Kingdom of God. I want to see signs and wonders. I want to see people healed and loved. I want to see love and family break out in the midst of persecution and turmoil. I want Jesus, and I want to be like Jesus. I want to be a part of the Body of Christ and move together. I want to focus on the unseen. I want to die. I want to die to my will, my dreams, my way, my perspective. I want the perspective of Jesus.

I wonder what we could see in the Church in this hour with people who are willing to be childlike. I wonder what we could see in this hour with people who are willing to die. Unlike my 4-year-old solution, this one comes from the heavens. This one works because it is God's. Through His death, many were saved. How many will be saved through your death and mine?

"Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it” (Mark 10:15).