The Father through My Son
Brief...what I was really doing was worrying.
I was laying on the couch, holding up a book and pretending to read. Pretending, because what I was really doing was worrying. I don’t even remember what about, only that at the moment it was totally consuming my thoughts. Not even a good heavy anthology of short mystery stories - one of my favorite distractions - was working.
My son - about three or four years old at the time - came in the room. He came over to the couch, and managed to wriggle his little body onto my chest while I maintained my charade of reading. He laid on his back, and looked up at my book. While not yet old enough to read he was “into” words, and often liked to point at words in books or on things and say what he thought they said.
He reached up, pointed at six random words in succession, and said “God.... will..... take..... care.... of.... you”. He then slid off from my chest and tottered off, unaware that he had just served most nobly as a messenger for God.
I have rarely felt as “directly spoken to” by God as that day.
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As I am often doubting things in my life, that really spoke to me. What a wonderful way to receive a message from God. He can reach us especially well through our children, I really believe that.