Two days ago I was kneeling in prayer in the front room of our house at 6:30 in the morning. I'd just confessed sins and was asking God for a blessing that day, needing to feel loved by him.

Our little boy Timothy, who is 22 months old, had just gotten up, and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he had sneaked quietly into the front room. He's always quiet in the morning when I'm praying because his mom tells him to be, but this time he ambled straight over to me, put a hand on my clasped hands, and said, "Hi, special one. Hi, special one. Hi, special one."

Never once has he called me that before. Six times he called me "special one." He said it enough for me actually to get it—that God was speaking to me and giving me a blessing.