One evening, after a long day of coughing, sneezing and sniffing, I
began our ritual of putting my daughter to bed. This usually
includes at least two story's from her "Big girl Bible", two hymns
from her song book, dancing to the first song and a prayer,
where she will tell me how many things I can say
I am thankful for.
Like a grumpy tired mommy I tell her sternly to change and
jump into bed. I tell her no story's tonight because Mommy
is tired. "Please, can we just get into bed now so I can
shut this door and turn out the light" I repeat
several times. "Just one story" she pleads. I give in reluctantly.
Turns out we are on the crucifixion story. As I begin to read
line after line the words begin to chip away at my tired, coarse
mood. As we both look at the picture of Jesus nailed to the
cross she says "they are being so mean to our Jesus!"
Tears begin to fill my eyes at her realization of that picture. We
finished the story and talked about it for awhile after. We sang two
songs, danced to the first and prayed. I was thankful for
God used the simplest of books, the truest most precious of
stories to melt my mood and my heart. I am so thankful
that Gods word and His love are so powerful and
perfect that it can reach into our spirit even when we have
shut the door to it and tried to turn out the light.