My little friend is here today. She comes to play with me once or twice a week and goes by “B” when she’s here. 18 months going on 15 she has perfected the art of endearing the universe to her little ways.

Recently, B adopted Patches, the sweet, innocent teddy bear cast off but not discarded by my 11 year-old son. She bathes Patches, rocks him, kisses him, smiles down upon him and even reads him books.

As she carries Patches around, all wrapped up in a kitchen towel blanket, B often gets a pitiful little look on her face and cries a mournful little cry. She seems to be experiencing and expressing a deep sadness Patches feels.¬†Unconcerned with his stains, rips, and missing pom from the tip of his hat, B loves Patches with such tender care that she can even feel his own sorrow. And the way she caresses his sweet, threaded smile as she cares for his every need makes me certain she is also tuned into her stuffed friend’s joy.

At the risk of sounding trite, I’d like to think this innocent little picture mirrors God’s care for all His children.

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