TUNA FISH SANDWICH
Jesus said, "You may ask Me for anything
in My name..." John 14:14

      My three-year-old grandson Eric and I spent many happy days together climbing the lower slopes of the Ortega mountains which rose majestically a short distance behind our house.  As we hiked along, I sang songs about Jesus to him.  We would gather interesting-looking weeds we considered quite beautiful.

      "I want to bring some flowers home for my mama," he'd say.  When Dina, his mom, came to take him home he'd proudly present the bouquet of "weeds" to her.

      Whenever Eric hurt himself I would say, "Let Grandma pray for Jesus to heal your ouchie."  But I was never certain he believed Jesus healed him, though he stopped crying and didn't hurt anymore.

      One warm summer day we were on one of our hikes when we stopped at the dry creek bed, which ran between the mountain and our house.  We often stopped there to gather some softball-sized wild gourds, which we used as bowling balls.  We would roll them down the sandy creek bed  as far as we could.  I would let Eric throw from a much shorter distance, and we would see who could roll the gourds further.  We were laughing and enjoying our game when Eric hurt his right hand between his thumb and forefinger on a sharp twig.  "Do you want Grandma to pray for Jesus to heal your hand"?  "No!" he said emphatically.

      We returned from our hike just at lunch time.  Eric always wanted tuna fish sandwiches for lunch, which we ate "picnic" style somewhere on our two acres.

      This particular day we decided to eat lunch on the front porch.  I carried the sandwiches and juice to the table between two deck chairs.  Eric settled himself in one of the brightly colored, cushioned chairs and I sat in the other.  As soon as I said the blessing Eric reached for his tuna fish sandwich.  He cried, "Ouch!" and could not close his hand over the sandwich.

      "Now will you let Grandma pray for Jesus to heal your hand?"  Again he said loudly, "NO!"  Once more he tried to pick up his sandwich, and with a wince, moaned, "Oooouch!"  I did not let on that I had heard his moaning, but sat there enjoying my sandwich.  Suddenly, Eric thrust his hand out toward me without a word.  I reached over and touched the sore spot and prayed simply, "Jesus, please heal Eric's hand. Thank you."

      Immediately Eric picked up his sandwich without a hint of pain.  The look on his face spoke of surrender.  His actions reminded me of how, so many times when I knew I needed the Lord's help I would insist on relying on my own strength.  I guess it is just plain rebellion: not wanting to admit we need God in our lives.

      At this point, all I said was, "Isn't Jesus good to us?"  His reply spoken with a sweet smile, was simply, "Yes, Grandma."