Personal Narrative Of My Life

Personal Narrative
Living in South Georgia, summer days are always scorching and this July afternoon was no expectation. A few days before the fourth of July the temperature records had already hit record high. The temperature’s high for this day was a blazing 102 degrees Fahrenheit. We had devoted most of the day to being cramped indoors, but with two small, lively boys, Christopher and Easton, they were getting fidgety to go outside. Easton, who was only a mere two years old at the time and he could not understand why he could not play outside in the blistering heat. After the sun shifted towards descending, we allowed the boys to get in the swimming pool to excrete some energy. At the same time as the boys were swimming, I grilled supper.
As soon as I called the boys in from the pool, my littlest one sprinted pass me and into the house. He wanted to be the first

As a father, I was proud my boys like to pray. Following in his father’s footsteps, this evening, Easton was eager to pray. Once everyone was at the dinner table, I told him he could go ahead and say the blessing. In our home, the first one ready for supper and sitting at the table gets to say the prayer. In that quiet moment, he prayed, “Lawd bless dis food, tank you for dying on da tross, me love you, omen” which translated to “Lord bless this food, thank you for dying on the cross, I love you, Amen.”
Twinkling in that moment of that precious prayer, I had an overwhelming burning feeling. A simple blessing over our food from my dear son, became an awe-inspiring episode. Hearing the words of my little son to God Almighty in heaven routed me to tears. Hearing my cherished son thank my beloved God for His unselfish sacrifice, humbled me like never before. Surpassed with a sense of gratitude for the sacrifice of God’s one and only son, for my sons and myself was too much to embrace, the tears flooded down my