The other day, my daughter found a dead baby bird in our yard.
It was tiny, fragile, and probably got knocked out of the nest by the windstorm we had the night before. Most people might not have even noticed it. But not her. She picked it up with care, absolutely heartbroken, and decided it needed… a funeral.
A real funeral.
She dug a little grave, made us gather around, and delivered a full-on eulogy.
And as I stood there, trying not to laugh and also kind of amazed, it hit me:
This is what grace and mercy look like when they haven’t been filtered out by adulthood.
This is what it means to have the heart of a child.
She didn’t brush it off with, “Eh, it’s just a bird.”
She didn’t walk past or look away.
She noticed, she cared, and she acted.
Jesus said, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3)
Kids have this incredible way of seeing value in everything.
No one told her that bird mattered—but she decided it did.
And her last words before walking off?
“Thank you for coming to Timmy’s funeral. See you next time a pet dies. Bye now.”
It was hilarious, yes, but it was also strangely beautiful.
Because that’s the heart I want.
A heart that pauses for the small.
That doesn’t need a name to show compassion.
That gives grace and mercy, even when no one’s watching and nothing’s expected.
That’s how Jesus loves us.
Even when we’re weak. Even when life knocks us down. Even when the world doesn’t see our worth—He does.
And He steps in. Not with a funeral… but with resurrection.
