Witches and Words and all kinds of Wonderment

I've struggled with a title to this post. It is my second one today. The first one was written in the depths of despair. This one is written to confirm again to my own heart that God is always in control and working behind the scenes to accomplish his purposes. I take joy in that. And I smile. God has a great sense of humor

After Prison Ministry on Sunday I stopped by a local college enroute home to check on friends who had a booth at an arts and craft festival. The festival had really grown since the first time I visited several years earlier and I had difficulty finding them. I also learned another family we knew from chruch had a booth where the mom was selling her adorable jar candles as well. So I headed off to see them too.

Now, this is a southern born and southern bred family. Daddy and grandma and the kids were all there doing their part even if it was just sitting in the back praying for Momma to sell a lot of stuff. I approached them from the back because of my location and as I neared I saw something that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I knew the neighbors, or at least I used to know the neighbors. It had been many years but it was them. She is an old testament "possessed of many devils" type and he a willing accomplice. They were there hocking their home made new age paraphernalia. I'm sure it was demon possessed too. I'd been to the home. They relished the ghosts of murdered people that lived there. We'd had business dealings with them which ended in being defrauded of a large amount of money. Not nice. Not good.

I had a pleasant visit with our friends, and afterwards kicked myself for spilling the beans about the neighbors to the Dad. I guess I justified my gossipy tongue that the man of the house needed to know such things since they were in such close proximity.

So . . . tonight at church the dad tells me about the rest of the day. After I left his five year old started playing between the tents next to these folks and singing. He sang Jesus Loves Me over and over, and louder and louder, sometimes with grandma joining him, sometimes with his mom singing with him. Mickey just sat back and watched. From the moment it started the neighbors started cussing and fighting, slinging swear words allover the place and it wasn't long before they were packed up and gone leaving a pile of trash where they had been.

I don't feel so bad about telling him now. How else could he have appreciated the sheer power of a child singing praises to his God?

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger. Psalms 8:2