This is a short true story from my husband's life, something we have chuckled over for 44 years now, from which we learned a lesson!
In our current American climate of not allowing prayers in schools, this incident could not have happened.
-Submitted by Sis. Jean Wilson
Orlando Ecclesia, Florida
(Formerly Springfield Ecclesia, Massachusetts)
At the end of a day, in the twilight of life, a father and mother were talking quietly about bygone days when their children were little. A smile played on the fathers lips, as he tasted again an often-told family story.
Remember when I went to school on Parents Day, he said, when our boy was in first grade? Lets see, thats more than forty years ago now.
It was as unusual then as it is now for working fathers to be there, but he felt fortunate, as a night worker, to be giving his family a different kind of quality time.
I was early, the father continued, and there were no other parents there yet. The teacher had me sit on one of those little chairs up front, with my knees up to my chest. I listened to the children in their reading groups, and watched them do numbers on the blackboard.
The mother knew the end of the story from the beginning, she nodded encouragement to the father to go on, her eyes dancing in anticipation.
Then it was cookie time. The teacher asked a little girl to pass out butter cookies, starting with me. I ate my cookie while she walked up and down the aisles, serving all the children. Last of all, she gave the teacher a cookie.
What did the teacher say? the mother asked. Tell me one more time.
She said, Give Mr. Wilson another cookie, and then well have our prayer.
Oh, said the mother, you must have been so embarrassed!
Was I. All those little eyes on me, including our sons!
The father and mother went to the dining-room table together for their simple supper for two, reached for each others hands, and bowed their heads in thanksgiving for their evening meal, and for all the bounties of a long life.
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