I can’t help it; I’ve got to tell this. On Christmas Eve I drive down to join the family for candlelight services. As I sat there between daughters Tina and Shara, I could hear 3-year-old Wyatt talking to his Pop-Pop (son-in-law Alan) throughout the services. Wyatt is much more chatty than his big sister Ella, who sat quietly with her parents, Britton and Lauren, behind us. (Unlike her brother, she also knows how to whisper. We sat in the far back.) He remarked on the sermon. “He said angel!” He commented on the song service. “Oh, holy night.” And wondered when we were going to sing his favorite, “Hark, the Herald Angels.” Then the communion bread and juice were passed around. He wanted one of the little cups. Alan reminded him that those drinks were only for adults. Wyatt looked up at Alan, and asked, “Are they beer?” Did I mention it was a Baptist church. After church we had dinner at Alan’s and Shara’s home. As we gathered around the table, Wyatt was ready to eat. He reached for a piece of the brisket but his mother said, “You know we pray first.” Before she could get the last word out of her mouth, Wyatt had his head down, “Dear God,” and with a brief but thoughtful prayer, he thanked God for the food, “Amen!” Now we could eat.
Published by Sheila Graham
Briefly Speaking is full of hope and encouragement--that's my goal. I'm a professional writer who promises you sometimes funny, sometimes thought-provoking comment on my life in horse country in north Texas and on what's happening in the world at large. View all posts by Sheila Graham