Story #1:
Yesterday morning before church, Jeremy and I took Abby Grace for her first doughnut outing. (While she has had the occasional doughnut, she has never actually been to a doughnut shop until now...yes, I am very proud of myself.)
Anyway, the table next to us was occupied solely by an older (probably 75ish) gentleman with white hair.
Abby studied him for a second, and then asked, "Why he not live with God?"
"What do you mean?"
"He is old. Old people live with God."
Puzzled, I questioned a little further.
"Mama, they die and go live with God..."
Thank goodness, I don't think he heard her.
Story #2:
Let me preface this one with the fact that Abby wore Bulldog tattoos on her cheek to football games on Friday nights.
Last Wednesday, we attended our church's Ash Wednesday service. When our preacher placed the ashes on Abby's forehead, he simplified his statement to something along these lines, "Jesus did everything he could to make your life better. Jesus loves you very much and this will help you remember."
Fast forward about an hour to bathtime. As the soapy washcloth touched Abby's forehead, she lost it...not just a little lost it...but total meltdown lost it. Between sobs, all I could get was, "No wash off my tattoo! My will forget Jesus."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment