Little Pray-ers

Have you ever watched the kids at church?

Or heard their daily prayers?

Well, I’ve been doing some research,

These things are true, I swear . . .

To the small girl wiggling in the pew,

“We must quiet reverence, keep!

Do you know why?” She said, “I do!

‘Cause people are asleep!”

With the Lord’s Prayer, the boy declaimed,

“Our Father, who does art in heaven.”

Then added, “Harold is His name."

And then, “Amen!” was given.

Another praying, as he had been taught,

Hoped he’d be a ‘lamb’.

“But,” he said, “It matters not,

It’s fun the way I am!”

The elder lad, who, without shame,

Watched baby brother blessed.

Spoke with the priest and then became

Unaccountably distressed,

The Service done, to Dad, Jerome,

Unquestionably blue,

Said, “Priest wants me in a Christian home,

But I want to stay with you!”

Two boys were fighting over food,

Who’d be the first one served.

Mom frowned because it wasn’t good,

“You must be like the Lord!

‘You go first!’ He’d always say.

And first, His brother’d be.”

One boy looked at his brother then,

“You be the Lord!” says he.

The small boy grabbed his father’s hand,

And led him to the beach.

A dead bird lay there in the sand,

Dad frowned. T’was time to teach.

“What happened?” his young boy inquired.

“He went to Heaven, son.”

The boy frowned down at the body, mired,

“S’thrown back when God was done?”

A small girl asked to bless the food,

For guests her mom invited.

She said, “I can’t! My prayers aren’t good!”

She was a bit excited.

“Just say what you’ve heard Mama say.”

She nodded. That was fine.

"Lord,” she said, “Just why on earth

Did I ask these folks to dine?!”

We talk of Faith, we talk of Hope.

We talk of Charity.

We follow prophet, priest or pope,

Find comfort on our knees.

Though we’re sincere in thought and word,

With pomp and pageantry,

There’s no one closer to the Lord,

Then the children that you see.