Nothing brings me more joy than to sit next to her. We create something sweet from a little machine and a few ordinary household items. For her, only paper. For me, fabric and thread. Now comes the creative part. ..
"How should I start?", she asks. "Do you spell dear, d-e-a-r?
"Yes, with a capital D.", I answer.
"I know. Mama" She is very sure of herself.
She is writing to a man we know that is in prison. It seems a grown up thing to do for an innocent little girl. I question if that is too much for her to bear at her age. I never knew people who went to prison when I was little. We pray that God will direct and lead us, show where to minister, and yet for her it comes natural. While she knows the reality of why he is there, she does not judge him for anything other than who she knows him to be. Sometimes I wish it were that black and white for me.
I do not know why God has aloud us to minister to this man, but I know it is what we are called to do and I pray that I can do it in love, for that is what He did for me.