Last week, I took my grand-children to a restaurant.
My six-year-old grand-son asked if he could say grace.
As we bowed our heads he said, "God is good, God is great. Thank you for the
food, and I would even thank you more if Nana gets us ice cream for
dessert. And liberty and justice for all! Amen!"
Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman
remark, "That's what's wrong with this country. Kids today don't even know
how to pray. Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!"
Hearing this, my grand-son burst into tears and asked me, "Did I do it
wrong? Is God mad at me?"
As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job, and God was
certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table.
He winked at my grand-son and said, "I happen to know that God thought that
was a great prayer."
"Really?" my grand-son asked.
"Cross my heart," the man replied.
Then, in a theatrical whisper, he added (indicating the woman whose remark
had started this whole thing), "Too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A
little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes."
Naturally, I bought my grand-children ice cream at the end of the meal. My
grand-son stared at his for a moment, and then did something I will remember
the rest of my life.
He picked up his sundae and, without a word, walked over and placed it in
front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, "Here, this is for you.
Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes; and my soul is good already."
Hay
Jimmyt
