My grandaughter, Rachael, (not infrequently mistaken for my daughter, of course) is three years old. She is a charmer who enchants the residents at my mother's Senior's Home. This week she paid her Christmas call, running about, hugging folk at the knees, eating Christmas cookies and talking to everyone. She calls them "all the grandmas", and I'm certain the odd man doesn't mind.
"Where does Santa live?" asked Yvonne, my mother's tablemate.
"At the North Pole," shouted Rachael, finger pointing authoritatively.
"I bet she doesn't know where Baby Jesus lives," regretted Yvonne.
"I bet she does," I retorted. "Try her."
"Where does baby Jesus live?" Yvonne inquired doubtfully.
"At my Nana's house," replied Rachael, not missing a beat.
"I thought she'd say, 'at church'," pondered Yvonne.
Ahah, I thought, Rachael is quite right. If baby Jesus lives anywhere, he lives at Nana's house, and at Rachael's own house too, and at your house. There may be cathedrals where he is worshipped, temples where he is praised, but if he lives anywhere he is lives in the homes, the hearts and the actions of his people.
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2 comments:
Mouth of babes indeed. Amen! Love ya - Anj
Thank you for this beautiful reminder of where the Living One is found.
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