Today's crumb comes from a friend in Indianapolis, IN, USA, who loves children.
When our four children were all four or younger, I read them a few Bible verses as they lay in their cribs each day. I knew God had entrusted them to me, and I didn't want to disappoint Him. No matter what they did as they grew up, I tried to be understanding. When they smashed two dozen eggs on the kitchen floor looking for chicks, I understood. When they started a hotel for homeless frogs, I understood, although it took nearly two hours to catch all 23 frogs. And when my daughter covered herself with ketchup and rolled up in a blanket to see how it feels to be a hotdog, I understood. I kept my promise to raise them in the word of God, but I may have missed the mark when I told my daughter we were going to church to worship God, and she wanted to bring some soap to "wash up" Jesus too.
But my proudest moment came during their first Christmas pageant. My daughter played Mary. Two of my sons were shepherds and my youngest son was a wise man. I confess I slouched low in my seat when Mary dropped the doll representing baby Jesus and it bounced down the church aisle crying, "Mama-mama." She grabbed the doll and held it tightly as the wise men arrived. That's when my son, wearing a bathrobe and paper crown, announced, "We are the three wise men, and we bring gifts of gold, common sense and fur.
The congregation dissolved in laughter, and the pageant got a standing ovation. "I've never enjoyed a Christmas program more," laughed the pastor, wiping away tears.
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