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God's House |
God's House
I felt like a mother duck with little
ducklings in tow as we walked from the Sunday school building to the "big
church." I'd left my high school helper to straighten up our classroom, so
I was loaded down with supplies for the project we'd do to reinforce the
idea that the church is God's house. We'd already talked about how the
altar is God's table, and my preschoolers were prepared to see the sunlight
shining through the stained glass windows of God's house, just as it shone
through their windows at home. We sang "We're going to God's House" as we marched across the lawn. We looked up at the steeple, and the children compared it to the rooftops of their houses. When we reached the door, I realized that my hands were so full I wouldn't be able to open it. Valerie was at the head of the line. I asked her to get the door for me. Even using both hands, she wasn't quite strong enough to pull it open. She did the logical thing. She banged loudly on the door and called, "We're here, God. Come open your door!"
Patti
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