Children's Gems In My Treasure Box: September 2025

Friday, September 12, 2025

Devotion Story: “The Day the Pie Fell” Blessed are They That Mourn

Coloring Pages Are at The Bottom

Matthew 5:4 (KJV):

“Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.”

Definition of “mourn”

Verb

To feel or show deep sorrow or regret, especially for someone who has died.
To express sadness over a loss or misfortune.

Examples

She mourned the passing of her beloved friend.
They mourned the loss of a simpler way of life.

Synonyms: grieve, lament, weep, bemoan, rue
Antonym: rejoice

To grieve with depth and reverence; to feel or express sorrow over a loss, especially the death of someone cherished. Mourning is not just sadness—it’s love that has nowhere to go, a sacred ache that honors what was and longs for what still lives in memory.

🌿 Blessed

Literal meaning: Fortunate, favored, divinely approved.
Spiritual depth: This isn’t about worldly happiness—it’s about being in right relationship with God. To be “blessed” here means to be under God’s grace, even in sorrow. It’s a paradox: those who grieve are not forgotten—they are held close.

It’s not the absence of pain, but the presence of God in pain.

💧 Are they that mourn

Mourn: To grieve deeply, to lament, to feel sorrow—especially over loss or sin.
In context: Jesus is speaking not only of those grieving death or hardship, but also those who mourn their own brokenness, the brokenness of the world, and the separation from God caused by sin.

This mourning is sacred—it’s the heart’s cry for healing, for restoration, for mercy.

🤍 For they shall be comforted

Comforted: To be consoled, strengthened, and given peace.
Divine promise: God Himself will comfort those who mourn—not just with emotional relief, but with spiritual renewal. This comfort may come through the Holy Spirit, through community, through scripture, or through quiet moments of grace.

Comfort is not just soothing—it’s transformation. It’s the balm that turns sorrow into hope.

🌸 Devotional Reflection

This beatitude invites us to see mourning not as weakness, but as a doorway to divine intimacy. When we mourn—whether over loss, injustice, or our own failings—we are not abandoned. We are blessed because God draws near to the brokenhearted.

🌼 Devotional: “The Day the Pie Fell”

It was Grandma’s famous blackberry pie—baked with love, laced with sugar, and destined for the church potluck. My little brother, in a heroic attempt to “help,” tripped over the cat and sent the pie flying. It landed upside down, splattered like a crime scene across the kitchen floor. Grandma gasped. Mom sighed. And my brother burst into tears. That pie was more than dessert—it was tradition, memory, and love in a crust. And now it was gone.

We mourn more than death. We mourn lost moments, broken dreams, fractured relationships, and yes—fallen pies. Jesus didn’t say, “Blessed are those who have it all together.” He said, “Blessed are they that mourn.” He saw the tears, the ache, the quiet griefs we carry. Mourning is not weakness—it’s proof that something mattered. And in that sacred sorrow, He promises comfort.

Comfort doesn’t always come in thunderclaps. Sometimes it’s a warm hug, a shared laugh, or a new pie baked with extra love. Grandma didn’t scold—she handed my brother a spoon and said, “Well, I guess we’re eating this one off the floor!” We all laughed through tears, and somehow, that messy moment became one of our most cherished memories. Comfort came not by erasing the loss, but by redeeming it.

Jesus comforts us not by pretending the pain isn’t real, but by entering it with us. He weeps with us, walks with us, and whispers hope into the hollow places. The promise of Matthew 5:4 is not just future comfort—it’s present companionship. The Comforter, the Holy Spirit, dwells with those who mourn, bringing peace that passes understanding and joy that comes from the Holy Spirit

So if you’re mourning today—whether it’s a person, a plan, or a pie—know this: you are not alone. Your sorrow is seen. Your tears are treasured. And your comfort will be there. It may arrive in unexpected ways—a song, a scripture, a silly memory—but it will come. Because Jesus said so. And He never breaks a promise.

Let mourning be a teacher, not a thief. It teaches us to love deeply, to hold loosely, and to trust fiercely. It reminds us that this world is not our home, and that every tear will one day be wiped away. Until then, we mourn with hope, still find joy in sorrow in Christ and bake new pies with forever love.

Conclusion: A ruined pie may seem small, but grief doesn’t measure itself in size—it measures in meaning. That pie was more than dessert. It was tradition, anticipation, love baked into the crust. And when it fell, the boy didn’t just see splattered berries—he saw disappointment in the eyes of people he cared about. He thought, “I ruined it for everyone.” But what he really felt was the weight of wanting to bring joy, and fearing he’d brought sorrow instead.
That’s why we grieve over things like ruined pies, broken ornaments, and forgotten birthdays. Because they represent connection. And when connection feels lost, even for a moment, our hearts ache.
But here’s the grace: Grief opens the door to comfort. And comfort reminds us that love isn’t so easily ruined.

💬 A Devotional Reflection

“Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.” — Matthew 5:4 (KJV)
The boy mourned not just the pie, but the joy he hoped to share. And in that mourning, he was met with grace—a grandmother who smiled and said, “Well, I guess we’re eating this one off the floor!” Laughter returned. Love remained. And comfort came, not by fixing the pie, but by redeeming the moment

☀️ Tip of the Day

Let yourself feel. Don’t rush past sorrow. Invite God into it. He doesn’t just fix—He sits, listens, and loves.

📖 Scripture Recommendation

Psalm 34:18 – “The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.”
Isaiah 61:3 – “To give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning…”

🙏 Matching Prayer

Dear Lord, Thank You for seeing my sorrow and calling me blessed in it. Help me not to hide my grief, but to bring it to You. Comfort me in ways only You can—through laughter, through love, through Your Word. Teach me to mourn with hope, and to comfort others with the comfort I’ve received. Let my broken places become holy ground. Amen.

Susan Barker Nikitenko Sept 12th 2025© MBNMRMPMKBPBANNABENGERCP343432#

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Wednesday, September 10, 2025

Devotional Story: “The Pink Umbrella and the Promise”

Scripture Focus: “Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.” — Matthew 5:4 (KJV)

Lila was only seven when her big sister Maren passed away. Maren had been her hero—bold, kind, and always ready with a story or a silly song. They shared secrets, sidewalk chalk masterpieces, and rainy-day walks under Maren’s favorite pink umbrella. When Maren died suddenly, the world felt gray. Lila didn’t want to go outside. She didn’t want to laugh. She didn’t want to remember.

One rainy afternoon, Lila sat curled on the couch, staring at the umbrella leaning in the corner. Her mother knelt beside her and gently brushed the hair from her face. “Sweetheart,” she whispered, “I know it hurts. I miss her too. But mourning doesn’t mean forgetting—it means loving someone so much that your heart needs time to heal.”

Lila looked up, tears brimming. “But I don’t feel blessed. I just feel broken.”

Her mother nodded, eyes soft. “Jesus said, ‘Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.’ That means He sees your sorrow, and He promises to meet you in it. Comfort isn’t always loud—it’s quiet, like a hug, a memory, or a walk in the rain.”

Later that day, Lila found a note tucked inside her sock drawer. It was written in Maren’s loopy handwriting:

“Dear Little Star, if you ever feel lost, follow the raindrops. I’ll be there—laughing, loving, and walking beside you. Take the umbrella. It still works.”

With trembling hands, Lila opened the umbrella and stepped outside. The rain was soft, like heaven’s tears. She walked to the bakery, just like they used to. Mrs. Delaney saw her and smiled through tears. “You look just like your sister,” she said. “She used to say rain was God’s way of watering our smiles.”

That night, Lila told her mom about the note. Her mother held her close and whispered, “That’s comfort, baby. That’s Jesus keeping His promise.”

Supporting Scriptures (KJV)

Psalm 147:3 — “He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.”
Isaiah 66:13 — “As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you…”
John 14:18 — “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.”

Tip of the Day

Let grief speak—but don’t let it silence love. Comfort often comes in small, sacred ways. Be open to them.

Prayer

Dear Lord, Thank You for seeing our sorrow and calling us blessed in it. For every child who mourns, for every heart that aches, be near. Let Your comfort come gently—through memories, through kindness, through Your Word. Teach us to walk through grief with grace, and to carry love forward even when it hurts. Thank You for the promise that we shall be comforted. Amen.

Susan Barker Nikitenko Sept.10th, 2025© MBCopRMNMPMKBPBGEOV565*

Monday, September 8, 2025

If I Could Give You Blessings

If I could give you blessings, I’d slip them in your shoes— Soft steps of mercy for the roads you didn’t choose. I’d stitch them in your pockets, where your trembling fingers hide, So when you reach for courage, you’ll find grace tucked inside.

I’d pour them in your coffee cup, warm and honey-sweet, To stir your weary mornings with a joy that tastes complete. I’d braid them through your laughter, so even when you cry, A thread of holy comfort would glisten in your sky.

I’d plant them in your garden, where the quiet prayers grow wild, With blooms of understanding for the inner, aching child. I’d write them on your windowsill in sunlight’s golden ink, So every time you look outside, you’ll pause and stop to think—

That you are not forgotten, not forsaken, not alone. That heaven sends its whispers in the softest undertone. And if I could give you blessings, I’d give you this today: The knowing that you’re cherished in a thousand quiet ways.

Susan Barker Nikitenko Sept. 8th, 2025© MPMBNATRICPATCOPKYRANNABEN PMKJHGN89

A Basket of Blessings From My Heart to Yours

📖 Opening Scripture (KJV)

Luke 6:38 Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom.

Devotion: A Basket of Blessings From My Heart to Yours

If I could hand you something today, it wouldn’t be wrapped in ribbon or hidden in tissue—it would be a basket. Not just any basket, but one woven with prayer, lined with grace, and filled with blessings gathered from the garden of God’s goodness. It would be soft with mercy, fragrant with hope, and overflowing with joy.

Inside, you’d find peace for your anxious thoughts—like lavender tucked between pages of scripture. You’d find courage, shaped like a warm loaf of bread, ready to nourish your weary soul. You’d find laughter, like sunbeams caught in a jar, and forgiveness folded like a quilt stitched with second chances.

This basket isn’t mine alone—it’s passed from heart to heart, from one redeemed soul to another. Because when God blesses us, it’s never meant to be hoarded. His gifts multiply when shared. The more we pour out, the more He pours in. That’s the miracle of grace: it never runs dry.

But sometimes we forget. We clutch our baskets tight, afraid there won’t be enough. We compare our blessings to others’ baskets and miss the beauty of our own. Yet God gently reminds us: “Child, I am the source. I am the giver. I am the overflow.” And when we open our hands, we find they were never empty.

So today, I offer you this basket—not because I’m perfect, but because I’ve been blessed. And tucked inside is the greatest gift of all: the invitation to know the Giver Himself. His name is Jesus. He doesn’t just fill baskets—He fills hearts. He doesn’t just bless—He saves.

To receive Him, it’s as simple and sacred as ABC:

Admit you are a sinner in need of grace (Romans 3:23)
Believe that Jesus died and rose again for you (Romans 10:9)
Confess Him as Lord and call on His name (Romans 10:13)

That’s the beginning of a life where your basket never empties—because it’s held by nail-scarred hands that never let go.

So from my heart to yours, take this blessing. Let it remind you that you are loved, chosen, and invited into a story of eternal abundance.