It is Sunday. The last one of September. The rains have come and cooled and watered the earth and us. The children are in bed, George is driving home from a fun wedding gig in Atlanta. It was a long sweet day filled with worship, then friends to dine on Papa John's customer appreciation $3.99 pizza day, a lazy afternoon nap, over to Trevor and Paige's and then home again for bed.

And as I walked out of Amelia's room leaving her tucked in for the night, George Wilder called to me. I sat on the edge of his bed as he said, "I called Jesus to my life." I asked him to say it again and he did. I asked him if he loved Jesus and he said, "Yes." I want to tell Daddy when he gets home. I said I loved him and I knew Daddy would love to talk with him. We prayed and I left the room. It is nearly 11 p.m. and sleep is still far away. My heart is huge.

The day was ordinary. We did all that Sunday is.

The story we read before bed tonight was a random pick from the children's Bible. The story of the starving widow that in faith fed Elijah before her own starving son. And the bread never ran out.


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