Who painted that?

As I was savoring a sweet moment with my son this morning, snuggled up on the couch, he wondered out loud some very interesting questions. With his t-shirt pulled up he carefully examined a small mole on his stomach. "What is dis?? Mom, what is dis on my belly?" I thought about telling him it was a dot or choosing a word that I wouldn't have to explain but I answered honestly and told him it was a "mole". Didn't matter what I told him really because he had already decided what it was and only wanted confirmation from his momma. "No, Momma it's not a mole! It's a paint. Somebody painted dat on me! Who did that?" This one way conversation goes on for a few minutes while he debates whether or not it is dry yet or if it black or brown and then he asks me again, but this time he wants an answer. "MOM, who painted dis on me?" I told him that God did. God painted that mole on you Samuel.

A few seconds pass as his mouth gapes open in utter disbelief and shock and says, "What dat you say?!?" We laughed at his reaction but at the same time I pause for reflection at the wonder of it. As an adult I have no less wonder at how fearfully and wonderfully I am made. While I don't know that God designed for me to be quite so *soft* (my children's words) in certain places I do know that the details of me are the absolute divine handiwork of my creator and to God be the glory!