Skip to main content

"Saddest Part of the Day and Best Part of the Day"




Wes and I had just finished looking at one of our Christian placemats about creation.  We talked about the week of creation and all that God accomplished on each of those days. We ended our discussion on day 6 and 7 where he made Adam and Eve and then rested.

After that, I decided to ask him one of our ritual dinner questions about the saddest part of his day and the best part of the day. It went a little something like this:

Me: Wes, what was the saddest part or your day today?

Wes: Mmmmm, I think when the teacher told me I had to put down the wood chips on the playground.

Me: Yes that would be sad. What was the best part of your day?

Wes: I think recess!

Me: That's a good one.

Wes: What was your saddest part of the day mom?

Me: When I was coughing this morning when I woke up. I don’t like feeling sick.

Wes: Ya… what was the best part of your day?

Me: I cleaned out a big closet at the church today and I think that was the best part of my day.

For the next few minutes, Wesley didn't say anything. We both sat there in silence as we ate. He was quietly eating and thinking, and I was quietly eating and thinking. Then, having sat and thought for a while, he turned to me and said: 

Wes: You know what mom?

Me: What?

Wes: I bet I know what Eve’s saddest part of the day was!

Me: You do? (Anxiously awaiting)

Wes: Yep, when she ate that apple!!!

Me: I think you’re right bud! I bet that was the saddest part of her day.

Wes: And do you know the best part of her day?

Me: What?

Wes: Playing in that garden!

Me: You know Wes, I think you’re getting it. That’s pretty good theology my man.

Meditate - to spend time in quiet thought for religious purposes or relaxation. (as defined by Merriam – Webster Dictionary)

Psalm 19:14 Let the words of my mouth and the MEDITATION OF MY HEART be pleasing in your sight, Oh Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer. (as defined by God himself)

I know Wes is only 3 and I know this might seem like a silly, little story to some, but not to me. The meditation of a 3 year old looks different than the meditation of a 30 year old. I believe God finds it pleasing in His sight to see that children, even at the young age of 3 are meditating on His truths. 

Let all of our children’s hearts and minds continue to meditate on the characters and principles laid out in God’s Holy Word. Amen. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Divorce and the Land of Israel

(If you are here, the very first thing I want you to read is this: Writing about a divorce can be sticky. I would never want to hurt B in any way. So, please know this post is about the divorce, not about B.)     Rejection.   In the past, I’d had friends hurt my feelings. I was dumped in college. There were jobs I wasn’t offered. There were times I wasn’t invited. But that was pretty much it. The rejection I had felt in my life was, what I would consider, typical.   When I found out B had filed for divorce, I was devastated. Normal, right? I think so. I was intensely sad and cried every day. This too, did not surprise me. In fact, during those first few months, I didn’t fight it. When the sobbing began, I would stop what I was doing so I could heave it out until that episode was over. I also expected the standard emotions that sadness brings with it; disappointment, depression, grief. I wept through each of these and these sorrowful emotions became incr...

My dad's words...when I came home pregnant.

As a child, each evening my dad would come into my room, prop up next to my bed to talk with me for a few minutes before telling me goodnight. The conversations would vary, but the ending was always the same.   Before getting up he would say, “If I lined up all the little girls in the whole wide world, I would pick you to be my daughter.” I loved hearing that as a little girl, so I would smile, give him a big hug and kiss and drift off to sleep. Every night was consistent. I never tired of hearing those words. As I grew older and no longer needed my parents to tuck me in, that sweet phrase would still come out every now and then. Even if I acted too cool to hear it, inside it affected me. I finished college at Texas ATM University and received my first job teaching Kindergarten in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. I moved in to my own apartment and began to get acquainted with my new city and new home.   Though no one was tucking me in at bedtime, with out fail I receiv...

God, and our rental home.

I was still living in the home that once held our family of five.  Rooms were now completely empty, the living room bare and our bedroom was...well...void.  B and his kids had left. I would collapse at the smallest emotional trigger, a "train-wreck" as some people commonly refer to it. I shed tears daily, sometimes hourly. The failure of my marriage felt catastrophic.  Spiritual questions loomed in my mind. Could I hear the Lord? Where was he in all of this? Wasn't he here...somewhere? It didn't feel like it. And if he was, I certainly couldn't hear him. I'd been taking steps one-at-a-time for a couple months, but on one particular day, I was told I had to find a new place to live too. I was crushed. Taking the first steps were hard, but having to leave our home, this home we'd bought together, lived in together, made memories in together...the permanence of this step was overwhelming.  I could barely think straight.  In fact, all I really knew was that I ...