I lift my eyes to the hills.
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.
~Psalm 121:1-2
I turn my face to God.
::
"One more hug, Momma," little hands pull my neck down next to his cheek. He smells like honey and dirt, sweat and fresh cut grass. A little man. Mercy from heaven.
::
My momma has a bulldog. All sweetness and snort, she brambles around a house that used to hold children. She's the baby. She is sick. Still sick after a looong time.
Children most frequently pray for grandparents and pets. So if you'd like to pretend you're a child for a moment, say a little prayer for Punkin the bulldog.
4 comments:
Even the flowers will praise Him...
Jesus, please heal Susan's little baby. Amen.
We've been talking about Punkin since lunch today, including the ever-popular kid question about whether or not dogs go to heaven. Emma's prayer was so sweet and sincere.
It's our pleasure to pray for your mom's 4-legged baby. :)
Punkin has had a second surgery--the first surgery sustained a leak in the fix. Let all of this bring a glory and honor to our Father's Hoy Name. The doctors was optimistic. Let the children pray :)
The Punk came home last night an slept through the night for the first time in weeks. Eating and drinking and no puking. YAY! I am so thankful for a God who heals
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