Proof The Bible Is True

“You like helping Mommy in the garden?” My 17-month-old son, Kennisen, tottered through the flower bed at the end of our property, pulling up weeds with his little hands.

 

Truth is, he was having more fun getting dirty than anything. Maybe it would burn off some energy before his morning nap. Kennisen walked at seven months. It was all my husband, Ken, and I could do to keep up with him. Kennisen was no ordinary kid.

 

I got stuck on one stubborn weed. The root was deep. Better use a spade, I thought. But I didn’t want to whale away at it with Kennisen right there. “Why don’t I get the wheelbarrow and give you a ride back to the house for your nap?” I asked Kennisen.

 

He nodded, looking for more weeds to yank.

 

I walked through the grassy ranchland toward the house, glancing back every few seconds, even waving once. Kennisen busily plucked strands of prairie grass from the dirt. It was a gorgeous early spring day. I turned to pull the wheelbarrow away from the house and swing it around.

 

I looked back toward the garden. Kennisen was gone. Just like that. “Kennisen!” I shouted. No reply. He never hid from me. Something was wrong.

 

The creek! The thought jolted me like a bolt of lightning.

 

Read More: Miracle Boy – Guideposts