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Godly Lesson from a 4-Year Old

It was a late autumn evening in the peaceful Texas countryside. The kids were in bed, the house was dark except for the light above the dining table where my sister and I were catching up on some personal conversation. Her husband was working the late shift and we were expecting him to join the conversation in a couple of hours.

It was a nice time of the year to be in Texas. Cool pleasant breezes blowing through open windows. Peaceful night sounds of the countryside serenading us. I lived in another state at the time but, like all transplanted Texans, I missed my home state. It was good to be back, if only for a few days.

The kids had been in bed for plenty long enough to be sleeping soundly. There was the big boy, 4-year old Christopher, and his twin brothers who had just turned two.

My sister and I had gotten relaxed and into deep conversation, the kind you have with your sister when you haven't actually seen each other for a while and now you find some alone time. The glow from the light above illuminated just enough of the world that I felt a contented intimacy with all elements of the setting. There was no need to have more or be anywhere else. This was just enough of everything to make the moment perfect. Complete.

But suddenly, from out of the darkness of the hallway leading from the bedrooms, where the boys were sleeping, ran Christopher. He looked terrified. He was frantic.

Chris's eyes were wild. His little mouth was twisted in a terrified grimace. His skinny, delicate chest was heaving as he desperately tried to catch his breath. He was breathing so heavily that I think I actually saw his little heart beating - pounding! - there amidst his fragile little rib bones. He presented the perfect picture of panic.

"What's wrong? What happened?" my sister begged of him.

He was obviously too frightened to speak clearly but managed to utter one almost breathless, whispered, word.

My sister and I looked at each other. Puzzled. The unspoken questions that were obvious in the eyes of each of us were, "Did I hear that correctly? Did you hear what I heard?"

His mother asked him to repeat what he'd just said. "WHAT happened, Chris?"

Poor baby. He took a deep breath, obviously doing his absolute best to calm himself and speak clearly. And he repeated exactly what we'd heard the first time.

"God."

"What!?"

"He's here," Christopher told us. "Granny says He's everywhere and He's trying to get in the bathroom window. Right NOW!"

By this time, my sister

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