Despite the pierced cartilage my daughters now sport, I have hope that the truth has taken root in their hearts. I admit (this may be mean) to calling them Esau once, and unfortunately they asked me who is that. Today in the crossword puzzle in the local paper, one of the clues was the book before Jeremiah. Easy for me, but I bet a lot of other people had a hard time knowing and then spelling Isaiah.
At the DC, Sara, who has a grandmother from the Philippines and is taking notes, wrote a scripture down in Philippians and I noticed she spelled it as the island, not the book. I said why don't you write Phil like everyone else? She said she forgot.
Once, when they were about 13 and 14, we were driving home from the Hall in West Fork to our apartment in Fayetteville, and one of them asks me who will get the job of going to all the pounds and zoos and letting the animals loose so they don't starve to death once Armageddon is over. And I was sitting there with my heart just swelling in joy that she was speculating on that, because then she is picturing the event, and presumably, herself there as an animal lover.
Before I can form words, her sister chirps up. "You idiot," she says. "If Jehovah can send an angel to kill 185,000 Assyrians in one night, I guess that angel can unlock a few cages."
So I never give up. You never know what is processing in someone's brain. I'm not sure we even know all the processes of our own brains. I could have done without the "you idiot" part, but I was grinning at both of them over that exchange.
No comments:
Post a Comment