One Sunday morning years ago I walked beside a less-than-mobile elderly lady toward the front steps of a Christian Reformed church. At that time the term “wheelchair friendly” was rather unknown. With a sigh she glanced up at the 12 steep cement steps leading to the front doors. I offered her my arm, and we made it to the top together. Then she asked me, somewhat out of breath, “Do you know who’s preaching this morning?” After I answered, she whispered, “Oh . . . better take me down again!”
—Stan De Jong
The Presbyterian minister had been summoned to the bedside of a Methodist woman who was very ill. As he went up the walk, he met the little daughter and said to her, “I’m very glad your mother remembered me in her illness. Is your minister out of town?”
“No,” answered the child. “He’s at home, but we thought this might be contagious and didn’t want him to catch it.”
My small great-granddaughter knew I always used handkerchiefs. So for my birthday she asked her mom, “I’m going to get Great-grandma some pretty lace handkerchiefs, but can you find out what size her nose is?”
Several years ago as we drove past a Catholic church, we observed a rather tall priest walking by. When my husband remarked that he seemed exceptionally tall, our young daughter piped up, “Oh, he must be a high priest.”
One Saturday afternoon in April, my 7-year-old daughter, Jenna, and I were outdoors enjoying the beautiful weather. I said to her, “Isn’t it the perfect day, not too hot or too cold and no wind?”
Jenna responded, “Yes, if only Adam and Eve had not eaten the apple.”
Heavy theology with my 5-year-old granddaughter:
Who’s that guy in charge of naughty heaven?
Grandpa: You mean Satan?
Granddaughter: Yes. God and Satan are having a big battle.
Grandpa: But God won the battle because Jesus died on the cross.
Granddaughter: Does that guy know that God won?
Years ago our eldest daughter, then 4-and-a-half, was looking at photographs in The Family of Man, which was on our coffee table. One picture showed a doctor holding up a newborn by the heels. The umbilical cord was clearly visible. When she asked what that was, I explained it was the navel cord by which babies were attached to their moms before birth; then the doctor snips it off and puts a Band-Aid on it and that is your belly button.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I never knew I was electric.”
When my great-grand-daughter’s 4th birthday approached, we asked her what she would like served at her party. “Chocolate cake with chocolate icing and chocolate ice cream,” came the quick reply.
So for her birthday the following weekend, Gram served chocolate cake with chocolate icing and chocolate ice cream. When everyone was served and waiting for her to take the first bite, the birthday girl looked at her plate and said, “No chocolate syrup?”
She was told that chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate ice cream was plenty enough chocolate.
She looked at Gram, looked at her plate, raised tear-filled eyes, and with trembling lips asked, “You mean . . . I gotta eat it BARE?”
Ateacher was talking to her class about “lifting your banners high,” when it occurred to her to ask, “How many of you know what a banner is?”
A little girl raised her hand and said, “I know, teacher. It’s a magazine that tells you who died and who got married.”