I Cried as I Walked Home Tonight
I cried as I walked home tonight.
It seems like the whole world is crying a lot lately. But maybe it's not crying enough. Maybe that's part of the problem. We don't have the capacity to care much any more. Our hearts shut down so we can survive. We comment and hashtag, even protest or preach. But if our hearts shut down, maybe we're just adding to the noise that drowns out those who do still care, who do still cry.
My initial impression was positive. What a great dad, taking videos of his kids rolling down the hill on their scooters. No helmets, but maybe they're up for some old-fashioned risky fun. The little boy called out to his dad to watch, then whizzed by, captured by his dad's smartphone. His sister picked up speed not far behind, but about half way down, she feared and faltered, tried to put her foot down to slow herself...and then it was over. Her full body and face pounded onto the asphalt so hard I saw her head bounce from the impact. I held my breath and cringed, knowing it had to cause serious pain and probably some damage.
I waited for her dad to rush over to his little girl--to do what we all hope dads will do when we're hurting. But he didn't. He literally turned and started walking the other way. The little girl was screaming, looking for someone to help her. Her older sister took her in, and eventually her mom, but no one seemed to be in a hurry. They all saw it, they all heard it. What was I missing in this mini-drama? Or what were they missing?
I kept walking, wishing I was a nurse so I could have an excuse to go over and see if she was alright. As I passed by on my way back several minutes later, the little girl was loaded up in the car, with mom tending to her. Hopefully there was ice tucked away in that trunk somewhere. And dad? Sitting on the ground about 20 feet away, consumed with his smartphone.
I prayed for that little girl with all my heart. I prayed that she somehow could feel the arms of her Heavenly Father in her pain. I prayed for her dad, for whatever it is that keeps him from natural fatherly compassion. For this broken world that is so hungry for love and hope and a Father who holds us in our pain and promises to take us Home where we'll never hurt again.
Jesus, this world is a dark place. You see the pain more than any of us, and I don't know how You can make it through each day. Please...keep our hearts alive and open. Help us not to just talk Light, let us be Light! Show us how to jump into Your work of redeeming Your kids who are hurting and searching for You. Let us be Your arms to hold them, Your voice to comfort them--may they know You are real because they see You in us.
"By His mighty power at work within us, He is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope." Eph. 3:20
It seems like the whole world is crying a lot lately. But maybe it's not crying enough. Maybe that's part of the problem. We don't have the capacity to care much any more. Our hearts shut down so we can survive. We comment and hashtag, even protest or preach. But if our hearts shut down, maybe we're just adding to the noise that drowns out those who do still care, who do still cry.
My initial impression was positive. What a great dad, taking videos of his kids rolling down the hill on their scooters. No helmets, but maybe they're up for some old-fashioned risky fun. The little boy called out to his dad to watch, then whizzed by, captured by his dad's smartphone. His sister picked up speed not far behind, but about half way down, she feared and faltered, tried to put her foot down to slow herself...and then it was over. Her full body and face pounded onto the asphalt so hard I saw her head bounce from the impact. I held my breath and cringed, knowing it had to cause serious pain and probably some damage.
I waited for her dad to rush over to his little girl--to do what we all hope dads will do when we're hurting. But he didn't. He literally turned and started walking the other way. The little girl was screaming, looking for someone to help her. Her older sister took her in, and eventually her mom, but no one seemed to be in a hurry. They all saw it, they all heard it. What was I missing in this mini-drama? Or what were they missing?
I kept walking, wishing I was a nurse so I could have an excuse to go over and see if she was alright. As I passed by on my way back several minutes later, the little girl was loaded up in the car, with mom tending to her. Hopefully there was ice tucked away in that trunk somewhere. And dad? Sitting on the ground about 20 feet away, consumed with his smartphone.
I prayed for that little girl with all my heart. I prayed that she somehow could feel the arms of her Heavenly Father in her pain. I prayed for her dad, for whatever it is that keeps him from natural fatherly compassion. For this broken world that is so hungry for love and hope and a Father who holds us in our pain and promises to take us Home where we'll never hurt again.
Jesus, this world is a dark place. You see the pain more than any of us, and I don't know how You can make it through each day. Please...keep our hearts alive and open. Help us not to just talk Light, let us be Light! Show us how to jump into Your work of redeeming Your kids who are hurting and searching for You. Let us be Your arms to hold them, Your voice to comfort them--may they know You are real because they see You in us.
"By His mighty power at work within us, He is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope." Eph. 3:20
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