The inevitable happened the other night. It was bedtime and E got to pick a story. Since her current favorite was close at hand she toddled over, grabbed her Bible and said “Read dis, Mommy.” I tried explaining that this wasn’t a bedtime story, but she was having none of it. We got to “on the sixth day” and she was done. “More tomorrow, by myself” she informed me. I smiled, turned her light out and left her in bed. To be honest, I thought it was sweet, but I didn’t really think anything of it, until tomorrow.
E got up and about halfway through Super Why she got up, went upstairs, and came back down with Bible. She sat down in her Elmo chair, opened to the middle of the book and started saying “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” and flipping pages as though she were reading. I confess, I choked up a little at that one.
I thought about E and how she, at the age of 2, kind of gets the Bible in a way some adults don’t. She knows its Jesus’ book. He is all throughout the pages, and from Genesis to Revelation, it all points to Him. Sometimes adults can get mired down in semantics, when really, scripture all comes down to one gloriously simple truth. Jesus.
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