Children's Church

While Cuddle Bug and I were discussing her smart mouth, she blurted, "I'm Cuddle Bug. I hate things."

Now, as her mother, I know how untrue that is. Because actually, she is one of the sweetest, most grateful, most loving children I have ever had the privilege of meeting. But it's interesting, because we (my Bible study group) have just been discussing the fact that Satan doesn't come at us saying:

You're stupid.

You're fat.

You're lazy.

You're a failure.

No, he says:

I'm stupid.

I'm fat.

I'm lazy.

I'm a failure.

And he's trying to convince my Cuddle Bug, at four years old, that she hates.

And that makes me mad.

"Noooo!" I said. "You are Cuddle Bug. You are a child of God! You love the things that God loves and you hate the things that God hates! Is Satan telling you that you hate everything?"

"No," she quietly shook her head.

"Is Satan telling you, 'I am Cuddle Bug. I hate everything.'"?

She nodded "yes".

"Oh, Sweetheart," I said as I pulled her close, "You've been listening to the Devil!"

Her eyes widened, "I'm a friend of the Devil?!"

"No, but the Devil wants to keep you from being a friend of God," I said.

"But I love God and my family so much," she replied.

"I know you do, Sweetie. But if we really love God we have to obey Him."

"But I hate the Devil, right Mama?"

"Yeah, that's right Baby."


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Today my kiddos were standing at the gate talking to our sweet neighbor, Rose. Rose is battling Cancer, again. She's lost her left eye and hasn't had hair for as long as we've known her. Today she had her left hand in a glove because it is weak and in need of protection.

When my kids asked Rose about her eye, she answered them honestly.

When my kids asked Rose about her hair, she answered them honestly.

"Miss Wose, why are you wearing a glove?!" Lil Prince asked (probably jealous because I won't let him wear his gloves in the summertime).

She answered him honestly.

They know Miss Rose is sick.

"Is Miss Rose gonna be OK?" Tiny Dancer asked.

"Yes, God is going to heal Miss Rose!" I said, speaking with more faith than I have.

"Oh, like when God healed my knee?!" she said excitedly.

"What?"

"My knee!"

And then I remembered that she had been carrying on about a sore knee a few weeks ago at bedtime. I really didn't believe that anything was wrong with her knee. But I prayed for it to, ummm, shut her up. And she remembered.

"Yes, like your knee," I said, hiding the tear that was rolling down my cheek, "Exactly like your knee."