Confession: I’m incredibly ticklish. I do turn pink, well, red, actually, upon being tickled too long. It’s an unfortunate reality that my family has exploited on more than one occasion, and a trait I seem to have passed down to my two year old daughter.
I never really gave the expression “tickled pink” much thought, but my grandma always used to tell me she was “tickled pink” when I came to visit. As a kid, I always wondered when she would turn pink and why nobody was tickling anybody when we arrived.
|Image from twentywords.com|
Every day on our way to daycare and school, my daughter and I drive by the LovePower Church in Minneapolis. On the exterior of the building, there is a one-story mural of Jesus with his arms spread wide. This past winter, she noticed the mural for the very first time and asked who it was. When I told her Jesus, she paused and then said, “Hi Jesus. I tickle you,” and reached out to give Jesus a tickle.
In that moment, as she tickled Jesus, I pondered the expression tickled pink with fresh eyes. My daughter does tickle Jesus “literally” with her chubby fingers. But she also tickles Jesus in that tickled pink, deep down, joy bubbling up making Him antsy with delight just because she’s His kid kinda way. And that makes me smile because I know it makes Jesus smile.
Have you ever reconsidered an expression or idea based on what you saw through a child’s eyes?