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Not too long ago, my children and I were sitting down for lunch. Our son is 6 and our daughter is 4. I’m trying to teach them how to pray, so I no longer recite the routine, “Lord bless this food. . . . “
After I finished, my son asked to pray. Though hungry for my food and knowing how long he can pray, I agreed.
When he was done, my daughter stated that she too wanted to pray. Now I was really hungry and really wanted to eat, but said, “Sure.”
So she folded her hands and started, “Dear God, sorry this is taking us so long, but hang on, ‘cause we’re getting to the best part. . . .”
One Sunday afternoon our family took a ride to a small park out of town. There happened to be a campout for the Republican Party. The campers had draped banners between the trees, announcing their party event. Our third-grade daughter exclaimed, “Oh, these are the publicans!”
—Case J. Boot
My 4 year old daughter came to me with a small scratch on her index finger and said she needed a bandage. I looked at the scratch and explained to her that she did not need a bandage since it was just a small scrape and it wasn’t bleeding. “Don’t worry, God will heal it,” I confidently told her. She agreed that God would heal it because “God is everywhere, right?”
“Right,” I told her.
“And he lives in my heart,” she stated.
“Yes, God lives in your heart.”
“Does he live in my finger?” she questioned. I paused.
“Yes, I guess he lives in your finger too.”
Staring at her scratch and trying to grasp the omnipresence of God, she began bouncing her finger up and down.
“So what’s happening now?” she asked. “I bet I’m messing up his house!”
On the first Sunday of this year, there was no Sunday school, so our 3-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter, Ciarra, came to sit with us in church. It was the first time she witnessed a communion service. When the juice came around, she wanted to know if it was medicine, so I whispered a quick explanation that the bread and wine or juice was to remember that Jesus died for us. She seemed quite happy with that, and I gave her some candy I had tucked in my purse. After she got home that day, her mom asked her what Grandma and Grandpa had in church, and she casually replied, “Oh, just some bread and beer!”
I was working as a teacher’s aide with two first-grade boys. We were talking about moms and all they do for us. One of the boys—whose mother taught at the school and had recently given birth to a fifth son—said, “My mom’s
not here because she’s on eternity leave.” To which the other boy responded, “Eternity leave? Then she’ll never come back!”
—Ruth Van ZantenA certain congregation gave their pastor a medal in recognition of his sincere humility. As soon as he displayed it, they took it away.
—John and Nellie Bos
About 30 years ago, when I had just been promoted to be an examiner of drivers, I had a very nervous middle-aged lady in front of me. After she completed her eye test, I proceeded to test her knowledge of road signs. I pointed to the first sign on the chart. “That’s a . . . a . . . stop sign.” What about sign number 2? “W. . . w . . . w . . . warning of a stop sign.” Number 3? “Pr . . . pr . . . Presbyterian crossing.”
“What about Anglicans?” I asked. “Are they allowed to cross?”
“No problem” she said.
I had trouble maintaining my professional composure.
—Peter YzermanMy home church did not hold a special Ascension Day service this year on Thursday, May 25, so I took a walk through the neighborhood. There was a tornado watch on at the time, and I wished I had brought a camera as I drew near the local Reformed church. That congregation’s electronic sign read, “Ascension canceled.”