"Children's children are the crown of old men; and the glory of children are their fathers," Proverbs 17:3 (KJV). Some versions say they are a crown of the aged, so that would include women, too. Baby Isaac, the youngest child of our youngest child, is certainly a crown, or reward to us as grandparents!
His hair is growing and sticks up in a cute, little-boy way. I was smoothing it down and admiring his perfect blonde head the other day, and I remarked, "He has a double crown! That must mean he's a little prince!" only half kidding, because he is our little prince!
David expresses his wonder at the value of man in God's sight in Psalm 8. Verse 5(b) says He has crowned him with glory and honor. Man is made in God's image, and is the masterpiece of his creation. In beholding the heavens with its wonders, David asks in verse 4, "What is man that thou art mindful of him?" Yet a little later, he acknowledges that God gave man dominion over animals, birds and fish, "...over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet," verse 6.
God values little children. It is in Psalm 8:2 we find the words, "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength..." He also values their childlike faith and trust. In Luke 18:16, Mark 10:14, and Matthew 19:14 we find Jesus saying to let the little children come to Him, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven. The scripture says he took them up in his arms and blessed them.
Psalm 128:4 promises, "Behold, that thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord. (6)Yea, thou shalt see thy children's children..." It is always a blessing to see our grandchildren, but especially this week. We were present for Isaac's dedication ceremony at their church when his parents dedicated him to the Lord. He was very good and did not cry, only looking quizzically at those who came up to join in prayer over him. The pictures show Isaac kept his eyes open. (After all, Jesus prayed with his eyes open, looking up to heaven!)
All the family were invited to stand along with the parents in support of their vow to bring Isaac up in the fear and admonition of the Lord. I am confident that the 8-month-old boy in the blue shirt, tie, vest and pin-striped pants with no shoes over his black dress socks will not be a stranger in the courts of the Lord. I think he is already crowned with the knowledge that Jesus loves the little children!
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Birthright
"Maddie, do people ever tell you how pretty you are?" I asked my little granddaughter as I admired the smiling 5-year-old at breakfast at their house, to which she answered, "Well, they always say something about my hair." And no wonder. It's her crowning glory, if I do say so myself.
"Do you know where that red hair came from?" I asked her. She shook her head, and I told her that my mother had red hair, and that she got it from her, her daddy's grandmother.
"Where is your mama?" she wanted to know. I told her Mama was in heaven, but I would show her a picture of her on my iPad. Maddie had also asked about my dad, so I pulled up a picture of them together. "He looks like Uncle Mark," the perceptive little miss said. It was true. Our oldest son that she had gotten to know only recently does look like my father.
Then Maddie noticed that my mother's hair was red. "It looks like Cessy's," she said, remembering their au pair they'd had for a year with the same color hair.
"That's where you get it!" I said, exiting the screen, "From your great-grandmother!"
Mama had eleven children, but none of us had red hair! However, at family reunions, grandchildren and great-grandchildren are sprinkled like red pepper throughout the crowd. One of our six children has red hair, and he has a carrot-top son of his own, but Maddie is our only other red-haired grandchild.
On a vacation our son's family took to France a couple of years ago, Maddie attracted much attention. Total strangers, especially people from India or other Asians, would take her picture or want to touch her hair. It was a little unsettling for her parents, especially when someone would "accidentally" stand near the 3-year-old and have their picture taken.
I have read that red-heads make up only 2-4 percent of the world's population, and Scotland has the largest concentration, percentage-wise. I had always heard and said that my mother was Irish, what with her fair complexion, red hair and freckles. But a recent genealogy search by a family member has revealed that she was of Scottish descent!
I love teaching my grandchildren about their heritage. Nowadays, genealogy searches are all the rage. It is especially rewarding if one finds honor or royalty among their ancestors, but when a search reveals a scoundrel in the bloodline, not so much. What is most important is that we teach our children about their heavenly Father, and His Son, Jesus, who shed His pure and perfect blood that we might inherit the Kingdom of God!
"Do you know where that red hair came from?" I asked her. She shook her head, and I told her that my mother had red hair, and that she got it from her, her daddy's grandmother.
"Where is your mama?" she wanted to know. I told her Mama was in heaven, but I would show her a picture of her on my iPad. Maddie had also asked about my dad, so I pulled up a picture of them together. "He looks like Uncle Mark," the perceptive little miss said. It was true. Our oldest son that she had gotten to know only recently does look like my father.
Then Maddie noticed that my mother's hair was red. "It looks like Cessy's," she said, remembering their au pair they'd had for a year with the same color hair.
"That's where you get it!" I said, exiting the screen, "From your great-grandmother!"
Mama had eleven children, but none of us had red hair! However, at family reunions, grandchildren and great-grandchildren are sprinkled like red pepper throughout the crowd. One of our six children has red hair, and he has a carrot-top son of his own, but Maddie is our only other red-haired grandchild.
On a vacation our son's family took to France a couple of years ago, Maddie attracted much attention. Total strangers, especially people from India or other Asians, would take her picture or want to touch her hair. It was a little unsettling for her parents, especially when someone would "accidentally" stand near the 3-year-old and have their picture taken.
I have read that red-heads make up only 2-4 percent of the world's population, and Scotland has the largest concentration, percentage-wise. I had always heard and said that my mother was Irish, what with her fair complexion, red hair and freckles. But a recent genealogy search by a family member has revealed that she was of Scottish descent!
I love teaching my grandchildren about their heritage. Nowadays, genealogy searches are all the rage. It is especially rewarding if one finds honor or royalty among their ancestors, but when a search reveals a scoundrel in the bloodline, not so much. What is most important is that we teach our children about their heavenly Father, and His Son, Jesus, who shed His pure and perfect blood that we might inherit the Kingdom of God!
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Deep in the Heart of Texas!
"Let's stop at some of the antique shops!" I suggested to my husband as we passed through a picturesque, historic small town on the way to our son's house in Houston. We were ahead of schedule with a couple of hours to spare, and this seemed like a good way to pass one of them. The western-flavored atmosphere of rustic enterprises beckoned us, even though on closer inspection we found many were closed or out of business.
"This one looks open," I said, as I tried the door of one establishment and we went inside. "Hell-o," I called when I didn't see anyone. Just then a woman stuck her head out of an interior doorway and unlatched a small gate that she came through. "Are you open?" I asked, and she said they were. I could see into the area she had come from, which was decorated with antiques, wall hangings and other relics of the old west and times past.
"Can we go in there?" I asked, but she said that was her home. She told us it used to be a part of the store, but when business dwindled they had had to move into the store building.
"I used to have a bed and breakfast here," the proprietor said. I could see she had an eye for decorating, but there was nothing I had to have in the small, crowded store front. I did admire a metal, spiral staircase leading to nowhere in the corner of the room. "We just got that," she explained, "I just use it as part of the decor." Flowers wound through the stair spindles and beads dripped from the railings.
Howard seemed to have a fascinating conversation with the lady as I browsed. They were soon discussing different places of the country where they had lived, and of course, the talk eventually included the goodness of God and his oversight in our lives.
One never knows what lies beyond the next door. The next shop was neat and lavishly furnished and supplied with vintage glassware, antiques, and objects d'art. While I was giving it a cursory once over, I heard my husband complimenting the proprietor on her tastefully decorated business. With that, she told him she was not really an antiques dealer, but an artist. An artist who carved gourds. She took us to a display cabinet with what I thought was Indian pottery inside, but when she removed some of the pots to show us, I could see they were beautifully carved vases, bowls and containers of brilliant colors.
"I also do pressed flower art," the thin, grey-haired lady said, pointing to framed pictures under glass on the wall. "See," she said of a fairy subject, "her wings are made of lettuce leaves!" It is amazing how many art forms there are and the way people use their talents!
We stopped at an attractive, rustic place next door with a huge, painted sign heralding "Kolaches." There were kolaches, a Czech pastry that is a Texas tradition, but I was amazed when I saw an adjoining room. It was a fairy land of gauzy netting, a gazebo outlined in white lights, glass-topped tea tables and dozens of small, white, slip-covered dining chairs arranged around the huge space. When I exited, I noticed a carrousel horse on a post with a sign on his neck announcing, "Kolache Christmas Tea." Evidently, it was a thriving business, though it was open only Thursday-Sunday.
Other than sample tastes of the delicious kolaches, the only thing we took away from our excursion was a taste for Texas! We plan to stop on our way home and explore the other side of the street!
"This one looks open," I said, as I tried the door of one establishment and we went inside. "Hell-o," I called when I didn't see anyone. Just then a woman stuck her head out of an interior doorway and unlatched a small gate that she came through. "Are you open?" I asked, and she said they were. I could see into the area she had come from, which was decorated with antiques, wall hangings and other relics of the old west and times past.
"Can we go in there?" I asked, but she said that was her home. She told us it used to be a part of the store, but when business dwindled they had had to move into the store building.
"I used to have a bed and breakfast here," the proprietor said. I could see she had an eye for decorating, but there was nothing I had to have in the small, crowded store front. I did admire a metal, spiral staircase leading to nowhere in the corner of the room. "We just got that," she explained, "I just use it as part of the decor." Flowers wound through the stair spindles and beads dripped from the railings.
Howard seemed to have a fascinating conversation with the lady as I browsed. They were soon discussing different places of the country where they had lived, and of course, the talk eventually included the goodness of God and his oversight in our lives.
One never knows what lies beyond the next door. The next shop was neat and lavishly furnished and supplied with vintage glassware, antiques, and objects d'art. While I was giving it a cursory once over, I heard my husband complimenting the proprietor on her tastefully decorated business. With that, she told him she was not really an antiques dealer, but an artist. An artist who carved gourds. She took us to a display cabinet with what I thought was Indian pottery inside, but when she removed some of the pots to show us, I could see they were beautifully carved vases, bowls and containers of brilliant colors.
"I also do pressed flower art," the thin, grey-haired lady said, pointing to framed pictures under glass on the wall. "See," she said of a fairy subject, "her wings are made of lettuce leaves!" It is amazing how many art forms there are and the way people use their talents!
We stopped at an attractive, rustic place next door with a huge, painted sign heralding "Kolaches." There were kolaches, a Czech pastry that is a Texas tradition, but I was amazed when I saw an adjoining room. It was a fairy land of gauzy netting, a gazebo outlined in white lights, glass-topped tea tables and dozens of small, white, slip-covered dining chairs arranged around the huge space. When I exited, I noticed a carrousel horse on a post with a sign on his neck announcing, "Kolache Christmas Tea." Evidently, it was a thriving business, though it was open only Thursday-Sunday.
Other than sample tastes of the delicious kolaches, the only thing we took away from our excursion was a taste for Texas! We plan to stop on our way home and explore the other side of the street!
Monday, July 28, 2014
Grand(s) Time!
"Mimi, do you want me to read you a book?" Maddie asked me after she had knocked, peering around our bedroom door this morning. I had read her a book last evening, which the five-year-old, paying rapt attention, thoroughly enjoyed. She "read" her memorized picture book to me with great gusto, and maybe even recognized some of the words. She had told me she is going to learn to read when she starts kindergarten this year.
Visiting at their house in Houston, we stopped at a Barnes and Noble bookstore on an outing with our grandchildren today. Maddie promptly picked out a book, "The First Day of Kindergarten," for me to read to her.
After I read a couple more books to her, during which she warmly confided, "I like it when you read to me," I suggested we walk around a bit. She was reluctant to leave the children's section, however, so I hovered nearby as I browsed. When I went to retrieve her so we could join the others, I found my friendly granddaughter listening intently and hanging on every word of a woman who was reading a story to her child!
I'm so glad she loves books. Yesterday when the subject of school's starting came up, her big sister, who will be in second grade, moaned that she was not looking forward to the dreaded subtraction. Maddie said, "I like school! I want to be ed-u-cated!" I had to laugh at her sophistication and big words. When I told her parents what she said, they burst out laughing, too.
"What does 'educated' mean, Maddie?" I asked, to which she promptly replied, "Learning!" Well, she is certainly doing that! And so is her big sister. Last night Anne-Marie asked me if I wanted her to put a picture on my iPhone "lock-screen." I selected one of the baby, and she had it on in nothing flat, then putting it on my "home screen" as well, with a few deft taps of her seven-year-old fingers.
Baby brother Isaac is busy learning constantly, too, from figuring out how to reach a toy as he practices his new-found crawling skills, to programming his computer mind with the varied tastes of things he puts in his mouth, which is everything. He is also intrigued with the sounds he can make by rapping a plastic cup on the table edge, or the satisfaction he gets out of crushing a paper cup and hearing it crackle. Awhile ago he was found, puppy-like, with his sister's small purse dangling from his clenched teeth, all four of them!
This morning I suffered a blow to my self-esteem when outspoken Maddie told me I was old. "No, I'm young! Pa Pa told me!" I said in mock-protest. She informed me she was young and I was not. At any rate, hopefully, I'm not too old to learn! Or even teach them something, however irrelevant it may seem to them in their digital, electronic world!
Visiting at their house in Houston, we stopped at a Barnes and Noble bookstore on an outing with our grandchildren today. Maddie promptly picked out a book, "The First Day of Kindergarten," for me to read to her.
After I read a couple more books to her, during which she warmly confided, "I like it when you read to me," I suggested we walk around a bit. She was reluctant to leave the children's section, however, so I hovered nearby as I browsed. When I went to retrieve her so we could join the others, I found my friendly granddaughter listening intently and hanging on every word of a woman who was reading a story to her child!
I'm so glad she loves books. Yesterday when the subject of school's starting came up, her big sister, who will be in second grade, moaned that she was not looking forward to the dreaded subtraction. Maddie said, "I like school! I want to be ed-u-cated!" I had to laugh at her sophistication and big words. When I told her parents what she said, they burst out laughing, too.
"What does 'educated' mean, Maddie?" I asked, to which she promptly replied, "Learning!" Well, she is certainly doing that! And so is her big sister. Last night Anne-Marie asked me if I wanted her to put a picture on my iPhone "lock-screen." I selected one of the baby, and she had it on in nothing flat, then putting it on my "home screen" as well, with a few deft taps of her seven-year-old fingers.
Baby brother Isaac is busy learning constantly, too, from figuring out how to reach a toy as he practices his new-found crawling skills, to programming his computer mind with the varied tastes of things he puts in his mouth, which is everything. He is also intrigued with the sounds he can make by rapping a plastic cup on the table edge, or the satisfaction he gets out of crushing a paper cup and hearing it crackle. Awhile ago he was found, puppy-like, with his sister's small purse dangling from his clenched teeth, all four of them!
This morning I suffered a blow to my self-esteem when outspoken Maddie told me I was old. "No, I'm young! Pa Pa told me!" I said in mock-protest. She informed me she was young and I was not. At any rate, hopefully, I'm not too old to learn! Or even teach them something, however irrelevant it may seem to them in their digital, electronic world!
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Worth a Thousand Words
My niece is looking for a picture of her mom. My sister passed away several years ago, and apparently, like the rest of us siblings, there were not many pictures of her early years. But Darla has heard of a particular photograph, one I remember well, of my sister at age 2 or so, sitting with our older sisters, probably 4 and 6. It was a precious studio portrait, with the smiling little misses dressed in matching outfits and sailor hats. My oldest sister remembers the dresses. She said she wore a pink one, the middle sister wore a blue one, and the baby sister's was white.
We can't imagine what happened to the picture, although I had not seen it in many years. I remember it among the family pictures Mama kept in a box that I would go through sometimes when visiting home. I wasn't able to there when my mother's things were dispersed when she passed away, but I did receive a packet of pictures of my own family and the children that I had given to her as they were growing up.
My niece has sent messages to all the family via internet to see if anyone might have the picture. Since her search has been futile so far, I suggested that she try Mama's family, or what is left of them. One brother, my favorite uncle, used to visit us with his family when I was little and would often take pictures of us. Unfortunately, all of Mama's siblings have passed away, too, but I gave Darla the name of a cousin, Uncle Robert's son. She found him on the internet and called this 2nd cousin she had never met, but although he was very kind and would have helped, he had no pictures of any of our family.
It would be a miracle if the lost picture is located, but if it exists, my sister's daughter is determined to find it. She has a bit of her mother in her.
We have no pictures of Jesus. Cameras hadn't been invented then, although I'm sure there were artists who painted pictures, but there are no known likenesses of our Lord. The only description we have of Him was the prophetic one of Isaiah 53:2, which says, "For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him."
This may have been a foresight of his disfigurement on the cross, but at any rate we have the idea that he was an ordinary-looking person of his day. Of his early years, we are told in Luke 2:52, "And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man."
I used to have a picture called, "Jesus Laughing." It was an artist's rendition of how he saw Jesus. It probably was not too far off, because Jesus surely had an attractive, even magnetic, personality. He kidded his disciples, calling James and John "the sons of thunder." Many of his comments were wry and tongue-in-cheek, often witty and and always wise.
Some religions and beliefs have held it is wrong to take pictures, based on Exodus 20:4, "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image," which is actually referring to an object of worship.
I love pictures of loved ones. Now I even get to see them real time on Skype or FaceTime. I no longer have to wonder how baby Isaac is growing and changing. I can see for myself! I hope Darla finds her picture, but whether she does or not, the memories she holds of her mother will never leave her heart.
We can't imagine what happened to the picture, although I had not seen it in many years. I remember it among the family pictures Mama kept in a box that I would go through sometimes when visiting home. I wasn't able to there when my mother's things were dispersed when she passed away, but I did receive a packet of pictures of my own family and the children that I had given to her as they were growing up.
My niece has sent messages to all the family via internet to see if anyone might have the picture. Since her search has been futile so far, I suggested that she try Mama's family, or what is left of them. One brother, my favorite uncle, used to visit us with his family when I was little and would often take pictures of us. Unfortunately, all of Mama's siblings have passed away, too, but I gave Darla the name of a cousin, Uncle Robert's son. She found him on the internet and called this 2nd cousin she had never met, but although he was very kind and would have helped, he had no pictures of any of our family.
It would be a miracle if the lost picture is located, but if it exists, my sister's daughter is determined to find it. She has a bit of her mother in her.
We have no pictures of Jesus. Cameras hadn't been invented then, although I'm sure there were artists who painted pictures, but there are no known likenesses of our Lord. The only description we have of Him was the prophetic one of Isaiah 53:2, which says, "For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him."
This may have been a foresight of his disfigurement on the cross, but at any rate we have the idea that he was an ordinary-looking person of his day. Of his early years, we are told in Luke 2:52, "And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man."
I used to have a picture called, "Jesus Laughing." It was an artist's rendition of how he saw Jesus. It probably was not too far off, because Jesus surely had an attractive, even magnetic, personality. He kidded his disciples, calling James and John "the sons of thunder." Many of his comments were wry and tongue-in-cheek, often witty and and always wise.
Some religions and beliefs have held it is wrong to take pictures, based on Exodus 20:4, "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image," which is actually referring to an object of worship.
I love pictures of loved ones. Now I even get to see them real time on Skype or FaceTime. I no longer have to wonder how baby Isaac is growing and changing. I can see for myself! I hope Darla finds her picture, but whether she does or not, the memories she holds of her mother will never leave her heart.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Good as New
"Look at my shoe!" I exclaimed to my husband. I had come upon the still-practically-new shoes in my closet and put them on, only to discover that the thin heel cap was gone from one of them! Maybe that was why I had quit wearing them!
"Don't worry, I can take it to the shoe shop," Howard told me. We dropped the shoe off yesterday, and while there, I saw a man get out of his pick-up truck carrying a single cowboy boot. It was well-worn, crumpled and caked with mud. I couldn't believe he would take such a dirty boot and plop it on the counter, but he did, and the repair man did not seem at all fazed.
When we picked up my shoe today, Howard saw a friend there with a suitcase. "Are you getting ready to take a trip?" Howard asked him, to which he replied, "No, I'm just having this suitcase sewed up."
Thinking about this later, I reflected on how it reminded me of the salvation experience. Even though some may have lived good lives and look perfect on the outside, like my shoe, there may be some hidden flaw or sin. Everyone needs the Lord. We all need to go to the altar of repentance, or to the "Repair Man." He receives dirty, old sinners just as the shoe repairman received the dirty, old boot. God is no respecter of persons.
The suitcase the man was carrying had a tear in it, or a ripped seam. He obviously didn't want the contents to spill out while in use. On a recent trip, I discovered I had worn a hole in the end my duffel bag by hurriedly pulling it incorrectly against the concrete instead of resting it on the wheels. I had to insert a make-shift cardboard liner to keep from losing something.
Jesus told the woman at the well that he could give her living water so that she would never thirst again. "But the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life," John 4:14.
In John 7:38-39 Jesus says, "He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. (39) (But this he spoke of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.)"
I have heard it taught that when the Bible says, "Be filled with the Spirit...," Ephesians 5:18, it means to be "being filled," with the Spirit, a continuous process, necessary because we "leak." Verse 19 continues further, "Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord..."
Once at a Rodney Howard-Brown meeting, otherwise known as the "Laughing Revival," the congregation was invited to form a line for prayer. The line stretched around the large auditorium and down every hallway. When a minister laid his hand on my head and prayed, I found myself on the floor. After a few minutes, I felt a bubble in my tummy and a small "hmph" came from my mouth. It was followed by more bubbly sounds, then ha-ha-ha. Soon I was laughing hilariously. Everything was so delightful! It was as if a fountain of living water was flowing from my belly! I had had a re-filling!
"Don't worry, I can take it to the shoe shop," Howard told me. We dropped the shoe off yesterday, and while there, I saw a man get out of his pick-up truck carrying a single cowboy boot. It was well-worn, crumpled and caked with mud. I couldn't believe he would take such a dirty boot and plop it on the counter, but he did, and the repair man did not seem at all fazed.
When we picked up my shoe today, Howard saw a friend there with a suitcase. "Are you getting ready to take a trip?" Howard asked him, to which he replied, "No, I'm just having this suitcase sewed up."
Thinking about this later, I reflected on how it reminded me of the salvation experience. Even though some may have lived good lives and look perfect on the outside, like my shoe, there may be some hidden flaw or sin. Everyone needs the Lord. We all need to go to the altar of repentance, or to the "Repair Man." He receives dirty, old sinners just as the shoe repairman received the dirty, old boot. God is no respecter of persons.
The suitcase the man was carrying had a tear in it, or a ripped seam. He obviously didn't want the contents to spill out while in use. On a recent trip, I discovered I had worn a hole in the end my duffel bag by hurriedly pulling it incorrectly against the concrete instead of resting it on the wheels. I had to insert a make-shift cardboard liner to keep from losing something.
Jesus told the woman at the well that he could give her living water so that she would never thirst again. "But the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life," John 4:14.
In John 7:38-39 Jesus says, "He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. (39) (But this he spoke of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.)"
I have heard it taught that when the Bible says, "Be filled with the Spirit...," Ephesians 5:18, it means to be "being filled," with the Spirit, a continuous process, necessary because we "leak." Verse 19 continues further, "Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord..."
Once at a Rodney Howard-Brown meeting, otherwise known as the "Laughing Revival," the congregation was invited to form a line for prayer. The line stretched around the large auditorium and down every hallway. When a minister laid his hand on my head and prayed, I found myself on the floor. After a few minutes, I felt a bubble in my tummy and a small "hmph" came from my mouth. It was followed by more bubbly sounds, then ha-ha-ha. Soon I was laughing hilariously. Everything was so delightful! It was as if a fountain of living water was flowing from my belly! I had had a re-filling!
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Trust
"You may disagree with this," the lady behind the microphone said, "but when I go to bed at night I pray, 'Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord, my soul You'll take.'" She was a soloist at the Jubilee Saturday night songfest, and she was giving a few words of testimony. "I know it's a child's prayer, but I'm a child of God, so I pray it!" she finished with a flourish of her hand.
Actually, David expressed something similar when he wrote in Psalm 4:8, "I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety." And in Psalm 3:5, he says, "I laid me down and slept; I awaked, for the Lord sustained me."
When my daughter Amy was about three, she would say, "Now I 'Amy' down to sleep." One night she heard Trevor, her 7-year-old brother, say his prayers. He began, "Now I lay me down to sleep," and Amy interrupted, "No, it's not now I 'lay' me down to sleep, it's now I 'Trevor' down to sleep!'" She may have misunderstood, but she made sure God knew who was addressing Him!
I once read a story that famed preacher Rex Humbard told. He said a child had been injured in an accident, and the doctor was about to perform life-saving surgery. The mother cuddled her son, telling him that he was going to be put to sleep for the operation.
"But Mother," the little boy protested, "I always say my prayers before I go to sleep! Can't I pray now?" She told him to go ahead, but to hurry, because there wasn't much time.
He prayed the little prayer, "Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep." He had just finished the phrase, "If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take," when the doctor slipped the anesthesia mask on him.
"It was the last words he would utter on this earth," Rev. Humbard said. The mother's words were true. There wasn't much time.
David prayed many prayers for protection and safety in his lifetime, for he was often pursued by enemies. He gave God the credit for waking up in the morning, for his prayer said,"I awaked, for the Lord sustained me."
It is still God who sustains us and gives us our every breath. I think of the chorus we sing in church: I am blessed, I am blessed. Every day that I live I am blessed. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am blessed, I am blessed! We need to praise Him while there is still time.
Actually, David expressed something similar when he wrote in Psalm 4:8, "I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety." And in Psalm 3:5, he says, "I laid me down and slept; I awaked, for the Lord sustained me."
When my daughter Amy was about three, she would say, "Now I 'Amy' down to sleep." One night she heard Trevor, her 7-year-old brother, say his prayers. He began, "Now I lay me down to sleep," and Amy interrupted, "No, it's not now I 'lay' me down to sleep, it's now I 'Trevor' down to sleep!'" She may have misunderstood, but she made sure God knew who was addressing Him!
I once read a story that famed preacher Rex Humbard told. He said a child had been injured in an accident, and the doctor was about to perform life-saving surgery. The mother cuddled her son, telling him that he was going to be put to sleep for the operation.
"But Mother," the little boy protested, "I always say my prayers before I go to sleep! Can't I pray now?" She told him to go ahead, but to hurry, because there wasn't much time.
He prayed the little prayer, "Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep." He had just finished the phrase, "If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take," when the doctor slipped the anesthesia mask on him.
"It was the last words he would utter on this earth," Rev. Humbard said. The mother's words were true. There wasn't much time.
David prayed many prayers for protection and safety in his lifetime, for he was often pursued by enemies. He gave God the credit for waking up in the morning, for his prayer said,"I awaked, for the Lord sustained me."
It is still God who sustains us and gives us our every breath. I think of the chorus we sing in church: I am blessed, I am blessed. Every day that I live I am blessed. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am blessed, I am blessed! We need to praise Him while there is still time.
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