This morning as I picked up my journal, a bit of paper fell from between the pages. Bending to pick it up, I recognized it as a note — a prayer, really — written several years ago by one of my kids. It’s just one of those simple notes children write in their spare time, usually inspired by the sanctity of a brand new notebook. But, composed by chubby hands with a kissable dimple at the base of every finger, it was precious to me at the time and so I kept it.
Today the note evoked a different feeling. Instead of maternal pride, there was humility. I was reminded that the Father knows the deepest thoughts of my heart; He understands the things I long to say even when the words refuse to come.
“i pray for everything and You know wate ime thincking.
LOVE YOU JESUS
KING OF MY HEART”
This morning I was brought to worship at the Throne of grace. And a little child led me there.