Our neighborhood Wal-Mart, like many grocery stores, has a Roman Catholic icon-candle section. It's in what strikes me as an odd place -- next to the trashbags, across from the paper towels -- and I'd managed to miss it for quite a while. One day when my oldest, Virginia, was with me, we noticed it and stopped to look for a moment. The next week, as we passed by, Virginia wanted to stop, but I was in a hurry and didn't want to let her, until she said this: "I want to see my Jesus!"
Oh, how I loved hearing "my Jesus" come out of her little mouth. Even though I know that she doesn't have a clue what Jesus really did or what He means to me, I delight in hearing her tell me that she loves Jesus and that she wants to go to church and talk about Jesus. I think it is a taste of what it will be like when He really does become her Jesus, and more importantly, she His Virginia. After praying for that day for... how long will it be, six, eight, ten years? Hopefully no longer, I don't think I could bear it. After praying for that day for years, how sweet will it be to see my little girl at the foot of the cross and know that I will see her one day in glory?
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