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.
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