The child had wandered away. He was an active toddler. His mother was focused on washing clothes in the stream outside of town, while she chatted amiably with neighbors. Suddenly she felt a chill run up her spine, though it was a summer day; where was the boy? He had gotten farther than she thought possible, ascending a little hill downstream. She could hear a hundred fanged throats hissing a warning as the boy's hand was descending into an adders' nest. What could she do? She stifled a cry, knowing that if she startled him, it could have tragic consequences. She began to run toward him. Isaiah tells this story in Isaiah 11. Come see how it turns out on Sunday.