Fire darted from blue eyes. “I don’t want to go.”
White ruffles flounced around her squirming legs as we clicked the strap into her car seat. She crossed her arms, defiant. A frown like an angry arc puckered her lips.
“Already,” I thought? “She’s only four.”
For the Psalmist, the long process of a once-a-year trip to Jerusalem brought joy. For this mamma making the fifteen-minute trek in a car to Sunday morning church, emotions might be mixed.
My child didn’t want to go to church and her dad was one of the pastors. Yikes…