As I was putting our nine-year-old son to bed, I bent down to kiss him goodnight. He reached up, pulled my face toward his, and gave me seven kisses—four down and three across—on my forehead. Then he looked me in the eye and said, "Mom, you are blessed."
"Did you realize you kissed me in the shape of a cross?" I asked him.
"Yep," he answered, "I planned it that way."
Over the years Ben had seen the sign of the cross made on other people's foreheads, with ashes during Lent and with water during services of baptismal renewal. But never had he seen the sign of the cross made on the forehead with kisses. From this little boy, often so full of mischief, I received an unexpected sign of grace from God, a reminder of the ways in which my life has been blessed, as well as the price that has been paid for those blessings.
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