Last week I had the delightful duty of watching two of my granddaughters for a couple of hours. The older one is six and the younger three. Nick Jr. happened to be on with an episode of Franklin where the theme was getting lost. I looked at the oldest granddaughter, busy doing cartwheels, and began telling the story of how I got lost once when I was about her age.
It was the first day of school after we had moved and Mom walked me to school in the morning. She had two younger children to tend and she thought I could make my own way home for lunch. We lived in a very small town so there was no reason for her to think otherwise. She gave precise intructions as we walked telling me to turn right when I got to the corner and walk straight down the street to our apartment above the gas station. I felt all grown up and was sure I could do it. When lunchtime came I got to the corner, became confused and turned the wrong way - left. I soon noticed that nothing looked like it had that morning and as I went up the incline panic slowly set in. I began crying and calling for my mother and soon became terrified thinking surely I was lost for good.
As I poured out my story tellling the girls how scared I’d been the three year old walked over quietly and looked up at me with soulful blue eyes. “I will be with you,” she said. I looked at her and smiled. Then she patted my shoulder and hugged my arm. “Don’t be scared, Grandma. I will be with you.”
If anyone thinks God doesn’t speak through children . . . I feel very sorry for them.