A Dart's Tale

Last night, at a birthday party, Reagan won a little dart gun. It went surprisingly far for such a little thing and the minute we got home he popped out of the van and launched it... straight into a group of trees by the cottage. We spent the better part of an hour searching... climbing trees, shaking branches... Brian even climbed onto the roof to look around. We had flashlights, search parties, the whole bit. When it was bedtime and no dart had been found, he was heartbroken.
We decided to pray and ask Jesus to help us find it the next day.

But what if Jesus doesn't answer my prayer?

Do you think Jesus knows where your dart is?
Yes.

Do you think if he knows then he would want you to find it?
Yes.

Then let's just stick with that.

So we prayed. A simple, 7-year old prayer of hope.

And we went to bed.

And it stormed.

This morning he woke up and asked if God had told me where his dart was. I said no, but suggested he go outside and look around.

Less than 2 minutes later he came in elated... the lost had been found! It was at the base of the trees, on the ground, plain as day.

Mom, did God send the storm to help me find my dart?

Well... he certainly used it!

"God's good at that stuff, Mom. Using really big things to take care of the really small things." 

Indeed, my son. Indeed.