“All I want is to know Christ and the power of His Resurrection” (Philippians 3:10).
In a beautiful children’s sermon, a pastor included this little tribute to his “Grandma”:
A small green shoot appeared out of a crack in the sidewalk one day, in front of Grandma’s house. Through broken concrete, this tiny bit of life forced its way into the world, ever so quietly. Imagine its determination, its drive to sprout, to grow, to blossom. How like Grandma to notice this event, to celebrate it, and point it out to me, me who had passed by it a dozen times without stopping to appreciate or investigate it. Grandma had been eyeing it for days, coaxing it as the sunshine did. Grandma’s attention turned from her lush flower beds and carefully kept lawn to this single blade of green something-or-other, growing out of a crack in her sidewalk.
“Come look,” Grandma said, down on her hands and knees. “Look here,” she said, breathlessly. “This is…
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