My grandaughter Breya, age 2 1/2, came into the family room carrying a picture of Jesus nailed to the cross. His face is turned upward, blood from the crown of thorns coursing down his cheek, his right hand impaled by a nail, one of three holding him to the cross.
Breya sidles up to me stating in a somber but matter-of-fact voice, "He's broken. We need to fix him."
Touched by her compassion, I inquire, "Who does sweetheart?"
"Everyone."
"Everyone needs to fix him?"
"Mm hmm." (meaning yes)
"He's better now," I responded.
"No he's not. Everyone needs to fix him."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment