Emma made a confession this morning as we tidied her room and unpacked from our weekend trip. She has always been painfully honest, even to her own demise. It is a trait that is both endearing and troublesome. Endearing for the obvious reasons, but troublesome when she asks your best friend if her tooth is yellow because she doesn't brush it enough? (age 6)
I could literally write pages of *Emma tales* but I'll just spare you with one today.
Her confession this morning went something like this:
Mom, you know what I used to do when I was little? When I was little I would say my prayers to God and then I would pretend to hear his real voice. I couldn't *really* hear his voice, but I would pretend that I could, so that I could make Him say what I wanted.
We both giggled about the silliness of her imagination and talked about how much she had grown, both physically and spiritually. Of course, the irony is that her confession is not so different from my own. Certainly I have found myself in the position of wanting God to say what I wanted and even *pretended* on some level that He did.
Don't you just love the lessons that sneak up on ya?