“A Sweet Melodee,” Friend, July 2009, 30–31
Jordan is two. Melodee is four.
One day little Jordan ran into the door.
It is OK, Jordan. You don’t need to cry.
Sit here in my lap, and I will wipe your eyes.
You should now go rest, after that big smack.
You’re too upset to walk? Then, climb onto my back.
Wow, you are heavy. But I don’t even mind.
I’ll sing “I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus,” and so I will be kind.