By Alexis Thom 
“Mommy, what if God was real, like in our house?” my oldest ponders as he chews on a cucumber, his eyes dancing with imaginings.
“But God IS real,” I interrupt, “and He is in our house.”
At that last part, my voice cracks a bit, catching me off guard.
With a fresh glisten in my eye, I continue, this time with a bit more conviction:
“If we ask Him to be with us, buddy, He promises He will. He lives in our heart always.”
He goes on about if Satan was “for real” in our house and God was too. He describes a scene where Satan tries to steal his lunch, but he wouldn’t let him; instead, he would give it to God.
A small offering from a small boy, but an offering nonetheless.
Their little brains are amazing. I love to hear how they try to put all the puzzle pieces together, how one thought leads to the next.
A minute later, his younger brother has joined in and we are all saying together, “Satan, we won’t listen to you. God, we will follow you.” It’s not a chant we’ve recited before, but it’s apparently our lunchtime chant today. It makes me smile.
It’s happened many times over the years: one of my children asks a question, or I’m reading a bedtime story, and in an otherwise very ordinary moment, I get to speak the capital T: Truth. I get to share the good news of Jesus and the power of our Almighty God.
I’ve never been great at sharing my faith with strangers. It’s something I’m working on, and thankfully, I’m getting bolder about it.
But with my boys—whose very freckle placement is engrained in my brain and whose thought patterns only I can decipher, I get to share the most important truths on earth, alongside a munching mouth or a skinned knee.
Words of instruction flow out of me from morning until evening, but these particular words feel different. It’s like I’ve moved from the peripheral to focus… I’m zoomed in & clear on my target.
What starts as a simple response to a toddler inquisition becomes like a drink for my soul, not realizing how thirsty I was until it touches my lips.
It’s as if my mouth started forming words I’ve known since I was a girl, but all of creation joins with me as they are spoken. My body has been waiting for me to utter them. My soul stirs inside as my ears hear what my voice speaks:
He is with you.
He is for you.
We are His.
He loves you.
These words are for them. These words are for me. These words are for you.
What a privilege . . . a weighty responsibility to bear and a joy to behold.
My children, with ears open and hearts soft, get to hear the words of God. And I, another child of our Heavenly Father, get the awesome appointment of opening my mouth to ears who hear.
by Vanessa France 
by Jennifer Toscano 
by Courtney Devich 
