“Hi, Gramma,” said five-year-old Cheryl, cuddling her doll in her arms as she came close to my chair. Beside me on the kitchen table sat an apple . . . round, rosy and inviting. Cheryl spied it and began dancing around the table, her hair bobbing up and down. Her doll, now held loosely by one hand, dragged behind her. Cheryl’s brown eyes never left the apple.
“Yes, you may eat it,” I said in answer to her look.
The doll dropped. Cheryl climbed up on a chair and started munching happily.
My eyes returned to my book. Too soon the munching stopped. I looked up to see what had happened. Cheryl was sitting with her arm stretched as high as it could reach, and in her hand was the last third of the apple.
“There’s still fruit on your apple, honey.”
“I know.”
Still she sat, now propping her arm up with her other hand so the apple would be as high as possible.
“Why don’t you finish your apple?” I asked.
“I’m sharing with God. Don’t you think He’d like a bite?”
“Sweetheart, I’m sure God is very happy that you want to share your apple with Him, but because He is God, He doesn’t need to eat like we do.”
As she brought the apple down, Cheryl asked thoughtfully, “Can God hear me now?”
“Yes, right now He can hear all we say, and He knows if we really mean what we say or if we’re just talking.”
Cheryl looked up and said shyly, “I love you, God.” Then she slowly finished her apple and got down to continue playing with her doll.
ML-05/15/2005