Out of the Mouths of Babes
Remember when you were young and you wanted so much to be understood by all those adults around you who were too busy talking about jobs and cars and other delights? You jumped up and down, tugged at their dresses, pleaded to be heard, but they failed to listen.
“There, there,” they would say, “we’ll be with you in a minute.” And their conversations would carry on, well into the night.
The next day they would ask what was so important and you would reply: “Oh nothing really, just thought you would want to know that God is on His way and He’ll be here soon, so I thought I would clean up my room.”
“Out of the mouths of babes,” they would mutter and keep on buttering their toast. If only they had listened.