Snow covered the ground that winter’s morning. Little footprints in the snow marked the way from Mary’s home to the door of an old-fashioned house back in off the street. A gentle knock brought the aged housekeeper to the door. A minute later the tiny rubbers were removed and cleaned of the snow that had gathered on them, and the little child with the golden curls seated in the warm room beside the fire.
A few minutes later, Mary’s aunt also entered, and hugging the dear little child in her arms, she imprinted a warm kiss on her cheek.
“What has brought you out on this snowy morning so early, dear?”
Briefly came the answer, “To say my verse to you, Auntie.” So, without further explanation, little Mary said, “God is love” — “Jesus died.” That was all.
ML-10/04/1964