Pray Him
We waited at the school playground until her older siblings came out of the building. after a few minutes, my three year old daughter pulled the end of my sweater to get my attention. She saw my recently re-discovered god-nephew sitting with a sad face on the slides.
"Mommy, he's sad."
"Huh?" I looked over toward the slides apparatus, squinting from the sun, and blocking the woodchips flying from the feet of swinging elementary school kids. I walked over to him, and asked what was wrong. He hurt himself playing with a school friend who went too far. He was holding his chin.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah." My three year old stood at the top of the slide, behind him, and said,
"Mommy, we can pray him. We can pray him, mommy, so he can feel beller." I shook my head in agreement, and said ,
" Yes- yes we can." So with the wind seemingly trying to whip us sweaterless, and the flying dust and woodchips, and the innocent and not so innocent squeals of play and roughhousing-- she touched him and we prayed. We prayed that the pain would be gone, and he would feel better. We prayed in Jesus's name. Amen.
"Mommy, he's sad."
"Huh?" I looked over toward the slides apparatus, squinting from the sun, and blocking the woodchips flying from the feet of swinging elementary school kids. I walked over to him, and asked what was wrong. He hurt himself playing with a school friend who went too far. He was holding his chin.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah." My three year old stood at the top of the slide, behind him, and said,
"Mommy, we can pray him. We can pray him, mommy, so he can feel beller." I shook my head in agreement, and said ,
" Yes- yes we can." So with the wind seemingly trying to whip us sweaterless, and the flying dust and woodchips, and the innocent and not so innocent squeals of play and roughhousing-- she touched him and we prayed. We prayed that the pain would be gone, and he would feel better. We prayed in Jesus's name. Amen.
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