There are people out there who claim that a baby's smile isn't really a smile . . . it's just gas. Maybe there's a baby out there who smiles when they're gassy and ready to poot, but my little Joshua definitely isn't one of them. I believe . . . and no one can persuade me to think otherwise . . . that smiles are miracles.
I caught Joshua smiling at something recently, and it took me by surprise because he had never smiled and cooed and kicked excitedly during a diaper change. I wondered what he was looking at, and I followed his gaze up the wall beside the changing station. There, on our wall, hangs a picture of Jesus carrying a little lamb. It's tones are golden and subdued-- I wouldn't have thought it was something that would attract an infant's eyes, but it did. And it does. When we visited family in Arizona this Christmas, Joshua found the same painting on Aunt Maren's wall . . . and he smiled.
I have a feeling that all babies born into this world know Jesus, and if they could talk they would tell you who He is . . .
And teach you to believe in him.