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 kissesâ€”four down and three acrossâ€”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.
Tables spread with mouth-watering morsels, guests gathered in the perfect ambiance, lots of noise, laughter and fun. We know a party when we see one. But we also know that not all parties are the same.â€ˆLike the towels in the guest bathroom that are there to be admired but never touched, some parties focus more on display than on people.
"Mommy, I want to go to the cross" were the first words out of her mouth when we arrived at Grandma's late one evening. A lighted cross sat high up on a hill overlooking the lake. Four-year-old Sarah was drawn by the beauty of its lights as they reflected on the lake and by her Sunday school knowledge that it stood for something special about the love of Jesus.
Each time the invitation to the table was offered he sat silently in the pew. Others would excuse themselves as they passed in front of him, but he never moved. When I visited him at his home,â€ˆI cautiously broached the subject. "I can't do it," he answered. "I can't come to the table. You see, in Vietnam I killed a man. I don't think God could ever forgive me for that."
Support the Christian Century
The Century's work relies primarily on subscriptions and donations. Thank you for supporting nonprofit journalism.