A tender and delicious moment when you accompany a child towards his night

A beautiful page recently read in one of the Minutes published daily on the website of the French MCR

Hello, it's Catherine from the Ariège*, It's Thursday, July 22nd.

Luna was already in bed and ready to fall asleep. I, her grandmother, did not want to miss this tender and delicious moment when you accompany a child towards his night. I asked her to pray to God. She didn't know any of them by heart.

"What should we say? "Well, I said, lacking imagination myself: "Tell him about your day and then ask him to heal those who are ill, who are hungry, etc..."

I listed some of the misfortunes of the world. Seriously, she listened to me, but a little saddened. Then, suddenly, the eye brightening, she straightened up and said to me as the logical consequence of my catalogue of sufferings: "But then, we must pray for God!" I, taken aback, could not answer "Yes, it is a good prayer, I say". I kissed her, turned off the light, and gently closed the door.

I thought: it was not the sufferings of others that affected her above all, nor the power of a God to whom everything could be asked to be arranged; but she sensed that for God, whom she had been told to be infinitely good, it must have been terrible to see the incessant misfortune of men... Thus she intuitively joined what Etty Hillesum wrote when she left for the death camps, totally converting our usual perspectives, that she was going to have to help God.

Then I could better understand why Jesus said to his disciples, "Let the little children come to me."

I wish you a good day...

*a French region close to the mountains of the Pyrenees (Editor's note)