The Difference Between Anthony and Me

by - March 20, 2013

Finishing my impromptu "to do" list in the corner of my notebook of sermon notes, I looked up in time to see him. Anthony, holding his father's hand, galloped slowly to the altar and tossed a dollar bill into the air. It float gently down into the offering box on the altar, but he was already trotting down the opposite isle and out the door to children's church still holding his father's hand. Anthony is four.

I know. I'm not supposed to make a "to do" list in church, but sometimes that's all that goes through my head when I bow for prayer, even the offertory prayer on Sunday morning sometimes.

I figure if I can get it down on the page, I can get it off my mind:

Reagan's costume
schedule interview for article
fold clothes
Adrian's work schedule
call Mom about Easter lunch
baby shower gift

While I'm gathering all my responsibilities into one neat, doable Tower of Babel on the page, Anthony's tossing his paper bill up to God not bothering to wait and see if God's basket will catch what he exuberantly let go of.

I wondered about the difference between Anthony and me. ...

I'm writing the rest of the story at Laced With Grace today. Come on over and let's ponder our differences.

Laced With Grace

You May Also Like


  1. Ah, to live the life of a lot of worries. I haven't felt that free in a long, long time.


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.