One reason why I sang on my way home Friday night was to keep from sinking into despair about the children I'd just met and children around the world.
I spent Friday hearing about the girl in Pakistan who was shot by the Taliban because she spoke up about the importance of education for girls. It's disgusting, shooting little children. What a bunch of bullies.
I try to be inspired by her bravery, but I spend more time fighting off despair that we can't stop people who would shoot others in the head.
Likewise, on Friday night, I tried to feel happy about how many children spent their Friday night in church; I tried not to think about how the odds are stacked against them.
I thought about how young most of them are: between the ages of 5 and 8. I thought about my own little nephew who is six. He lives in a good school district in Maryland. The Friday night children do not. My nephew has parents who will help him stay on track and relatives who care about him and will help his parents. I suspect the Friday night children aren't all that lucky.
As I drove home, I saw a sheriff's car pull over to talk to the three kids who were running in and out of traffic. I think they may have been trying to sell something. The cop got out of the car, and the three kids dropped what they had in their hands and put their hands up.
On the one hand, I thought, good, they won't get shot. On the other hand, it kind of broke my heart.
I'm glad I had to stop at a red light so that I could observe what happened next. The cop talked to them and put them at ease. He talked about how what they were doing wasn't safe. And then the light changed, and I drove on.
On Sunday at church, our justice group met. We will continue to work on improving 3rd grade reading scores. Perhaps that will help give a chance to kids like the ones on Friday night. My spouse and I will continue to look for ways to help.
And of course, I will continue to pray. It's important to remember that God has more power than I do.
feeling the feelings…
3 months ago