Deep down, we all desire to be a child. But eventually, we learn that we can’t stay that way. Life gets tough. Responsibilities are mounted by force or by choice. Maybe we even forget what that childlike wonder felt like.

But G‑d hasn’t. G‑d placed a child within us—a child that only we can make laugh. That only we can let cry. That only we can delight with the purest, simplest of wonders.1 And G‑d never forgets about that child. We are G‑d's inner child. We are that part He wants to enjoy, delight in, play with.

On Rosh Hashanah, the Day of Judgment, we say the following passage, “Is Ephraim not My beloved son, is he not a precious child that whenever I speak of him I recall him even more? Therefore My inner parts stir for him, I will surely have compassion on him, says the L‑rd.”2

On the one hand, to only be a child forever is quite limiting. We want to be purposeful, to be productive. And yet, we want to keep the sincerity of the child: her excitement, love and wholehearted ability to move on, as she would rather be happy than be right. To rather blow bubbles and watch them float off than argue over who was wrong.

G‑d invites us to engage our child daily. He tells us to have trust, bitachon. Yes, make the vessel, with your effort. Be the responsible adult you know yourself to be. But then sit back and watch the magic happen.

So how can we access that inner child? You can only be a child if there is a parent to whom you are securely attached. The 2-year-old will get into good fun, but only if Mommy or Daddy are closely watching. The child turns around to make sure her parents are there; only then does the child explore deeper. The more security, the more exploration. The deeper the attachment, the safety and the trust, then the more profound the freedom and growth.

G‑d asks us to trust Him. To trust Him that all will be good. And not just “higher” good but revealed, tangible good.3

When I lean into my belief that life is a happy story, that we all live happily ever after, that it all works out for me, then I can look back, and smile. And go explore. I can discover people. I can be curious in relationships. I can approach life with wonder.

My imaginative mind is only allowed off-leash when I know I am in a safe setting. I am not going to sit and write creatively in a scary neighborhood. It is in the comfort of my own home, a place I feel safe in, where I let my imagination run wild through the safaris of consciousness.

But what if this world is G‑d’s home? What if I relaxed into His promise of “Don’t be afraid, I will deliver you.” What if I believed that my personal redemption is unfolding and that galut, “exile,” has a happy ending?

Prayer, tefillah, is the experience of bonding with G‑d. In the Hodu prayer we say, “I am the L‑rd your G‑d who brought you out of the land of Egypt.”4 G‑d is whispering, I run the world. I’ve got your back. No matter how hard the situation, I can help you. You aren’t alone.

And once we have that secure attachment, the next line is: “Open wide your mouth, state all your desires, and I shall grant them.”5 We let G‑d know everything we need and want. We place our trust in Him, not in our professionalism, expertise, and wisdom.

Every morning during our prayers, we hang up our coat of having to play adult and bond with our Parent. As we prepare to enter into the work day, at the culmination of our prayers, we say, Al Tira, “don’t be afraid. … I have made you, and I will carry you; I will sustain you and deliver you.”6

Now we can engage in the world as the toddler who knows that a parent is watching over us and has our back. Now we can enter the meeting with creativity and without fear. We can spend that extra time laughing since our Parent is in charge of the world. We can spend time throughout the day, feeling happiness, not worry; doing things we love that nourish our spirit. We don’t need to hold the world up.

Prayer gives you what you need, a secure attachment with your parent. And gives G‑d what he needs: a happy kid. A kid who trusts that His parent is there for him.