Cole (3 years old): Do you know what Jesus doos when you have a cough?
Me: What does Jesus do?
Cole: He makes the cough go away.
Me: Oh. What does Jesus do when you cut your finger?
Cole: He tells you to go to the doctor.
When you stole from my friend
It made my heart ache.
But for you I’ll pretend
It was my mistake.
Though you lied to my dad
My flaw it became.
Cheer up and be glad
Because I took the blame.
You would covet and cheat,
And curse and assault.
Now my work is complete;
It was all my fault.
I carried a wooden plank as I walked up the hill.
My hand received a splinter; I winced, but continued uphill.
The rugged plank I carried bumped hard into my head.
I thought of giving up, but I proceeded on instead.
Further up the beaten path, I stubbed my toe on a rock.
I tripped, fell, and scraped my knee; in shame, I would no longer walk.
Then a strange man came up to me, who seemed of good cheer.
He said, “Consider it joy; testing helps you persevere.”
I stared at him in disbelief, and thought, If only he knew,
The full extent of my struggle, and all I was going through.
I wanted him to feel what I felt, and let him taste my pain.
I dropped my wooden plank, and tied him to it with a chain.
I held my cry when I poked my finger on a crown made of thorns,
As I shoved it deep into his head, and laughed at him with scorn.
My hand was cut and bled as I mercilessly whipped the man.
I bit my tongue when I spat in his face, the pain I couldn’t stand.
A loud moan I could not contain when I hit my thumb with the mallet,
While driving the nails into his hands, enjoying his torment.
I sneered and said, “Consider this joy,” as I thrust a spear in his side.
I knew I had taught him a lesson, and I laughed at him with pride.
But then he spoke those terrible words that pierced my heart deeply.
Never before had anything been said that hurt me so severely.
While he hung up on my cross, his face all black and blue,
He looked into my eyes, and he said, “I forgive you.”