She sat at the table, a friend on either side of her. Three or four years old, she loved to color and she loved to hear about Jesus.
The Sunday school teacher read about Jesus at the front of the class. "One day, parents brought their children to Jesus so he might bless them, but the disciples tried to stop them and shoo them away."
Oh, no! What did Jesus do? She pushed her chair away from the table so she could face the teacher. Captivated, she hung on every word.
"When Jesus saw this, he was indignant and told the disciples to let the children come to him for the kingdom of heaven was made up of such as these."
Her little heart expanded to near bursting and suddenly Jesus was in the room. He appeared kind of ghost like, hovering in the room, yet he didn't frighten her. His arms were open wide and he pinned her with his loving gaze.
She turned to the other children at the table wondering if they could see him, too. Their heads remained bowed over their coloring pages totally oblivious, so she gave an inward shrug and turned back. All the while the teacher kept telling the story of Jesus and the children as if she, too, were completely unaware of his presence in the room. Jesus looked at her with arms open wide as the teacher said, "He took the little children in his arms and blessed them."
Awe and blessing, peace and joy flowed through her as Jesus bid her come to him. He loved her. Jesus loved her. Jesus wanted her. He took her in his arms and blessed her. It wasn't a physical hug. No. It was a spiritual sort of hug full of love... a blessing she felt in the depths of her heart and soul.
She smiled at Jesus and, with one last look, turned back to her paper and resumed coloring. Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so... oh yes he does... with a love that will never let me go...