Walking the Walk

The smudgy faced boy looked up at his dad and asked, "Do you think they know Jesus?"

Dad said to ask them. The brown, questioning eyes stared up even higher to the man next to his dad.

Hubby smiled down into the wondering face. "Yes, we know Jesus."
We were at the end of a long, winding walk through forest and field; time spent sharing tidbits of history, parenting truths, and shepherding wayward kids. Gusty winds whipped around the warm Spring day like freshly melting snow creeping into a brook. We'd met up with a father and five of his seven offspring while exploring a battlefield where the North had handed the South a final defeat.

Not just Christians in name these people, his kids watched out for ours while traveling over a roadway to talk to a local farmer on his tractor. They offered and we accepted bottles of welcoming icy water from their cooler to cut the dust. Had we stayed, we would've played baseball with them. They asked if we knew Jesus. They didn't just talk the talk, they walked the walk.

As we drove off and waved from open car windows, the dad shouted to us, "See you in Heaven!"

We sure will.