Thursday, April 30, 2009
I lift my eyes to the hills.
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.
I turn my face to God.
"One more hug, Momma," little hands pull my neck down next to his cheek. He smells like honey and dirt, sweat and fresh cut grass. A little man. Mercy from heaven.
My momma has a bulldog. All sweetness and snort, she brambles around a house that used to hold children. She's the baby. She is sick. Still sick after a looong time.
Children most frequently pray for grandparents and pets. So if you'd like to pretend you're a child for a moment, say a little prayer for Punkin the bulldog.