Children and Grace

Confession time:  I cut church on Sunday.  I didn't feel like going, but Mira really wanted to, so I got up and got us ready, and off we went.  When her godmother and friend showed up, she ran off to be with them, so I slipped out and went to go visit Patrick.  Turns out, it was probably better that way.  Not sure I could've handled what came next.  The details aren't exact, since I got the story second-hand, but you'll get the idea.

So, at Storytime, Phil called all the kids up.  Once they arrived, he said something innocuous like, is everyone here?  One little boy, whose little sister was in the nursery, said, "No.  My baby is in the nursery."  Mira then says, "My baby's dead."  *oof*  Just hearing that as a story kicked me in the stomach; it's probably good I wasn't there.  Anyway, whispers ran through the congregation and people tried to find out or confirm what she said.  Phil said something like, "Yes.  And that makes us sad," and then managed to get thing back on track.

But then, a beautiful thing happened.  The kids were dismissed to Sunday School, and Mira and her friends went/ran to the toddler room as usual.  One of her good friends, who just turned three, ran into the room, grabbed a doll, ran back to Mira and gave it out to her, saying, "Here's your baby, Mira.  His name is Patrick."  Mira hugged the baby and apparently it was just what she needed at the time.

How is it that a four-year-old's truth can cut us to the quick and a three-year-old can know just how to bring comfort.  It was a moment of Grace.  I'm just glad I only heard about it--I would have been unable to function if I had witnessed it.