| My friend, Carolyn, was frustrated by how often her four-year-old son,
Brian, was getting dirty playing outside. At wit's end, she finally
said,
"Brian, can't you play someplace where it's cleaner?" "If God didn't
want us to play in the dirt," Brian logically said, "why did he make
so
much of it?" My first-grade daughter, Jenny, loves to sing. One day as I drove her to school, we were "accompanying" Michael W. Smith on his song, "Angels Unaware." When we got to the line, "Maybe we are entertaining angels
unaware," I heard her version loud and clear: "Maybe we
are irritating angels unaware." I couldn't have said it better myself. When my grandson, Billy, and I entered our vacation cabin, we kept the
lights off until we were inside to keep from attracting pesky insects.
Still, a few fireflies followed us in. Noticing them before I did,
Billy whispered, "It's no use, Grandpa. The mosquitoes are coming
after us
with flashlights." When my grandson asked me how old I was, I teasingly replied, "I'm not sure." "Look in your underwear, Grandma," he advised. "Mine says I'm four." |
 |