A Litany for Children

In an old hymnal that I discovered among my Great Aunt Sis's treasures, I found a lovely gem calling me to love the children and bless them, and in so doing, to become like them.

Jesus, from thy throne on high,
Far above the bright blue sky,
Look on us with loving eye:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Little children need not fear,
When they know that thou art near:
Thou dost love us, Saviour dear:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Little hearts may love thee well,
Little lips thy love may tell,
Little hymns thy praises swell:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Little lives may be divine,
Little deeds of love may shine,
Little ones be wholly thine:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Jesus, once an infant small,
Cradled in the oxen's stall,
Though the God and Lord of all:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Jesus, thou dost love us still,
And it is thy holy will
That we should be safe from ill
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Be thou with us every day,
In our work and in our play,
When we learn and when we pray:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Make us brave without a fear,
Make us happy, full of cheer,
Sure that thou art always near:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

May we prize our Christian name,
May we guard it free from blame,
Fearing all that causes shame:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

May we grow from day to day,
Glad to learn each holy way,
Ever ready to obey,
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Jesus, Son of God most high,
Who didst in a manger lie,
Who upon the cross didst die:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Jesus, from thy heavenly throne,
Watching o'er each little one,
Til our life on earth is done:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Jesus, whom we hope to see
Calling us in heaven to be
Happy evermore with thee:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.  Amen.

~Thomas Pollock, 1871

The Piano Man

Cortney Chintermeyer

A large crowd gathered in the noise and fray around the auctioneer.

The man in the red hat wanted to buy the piano.

The man in the green hat wanted to buy the piano, too. He called out a bid to counter the first offer.

A woman in the crowd asked who was bidding against the man in the red hat. Someone answered, "Frank Sutton."

I looked up at my Grandpa. His jaw was tight.  His eyes were focused. He held my hand, squeezing it too tightly.

Time seemed to stand still as my mind recorded snapshot moments. The sun in the blue sky. The man in the red hat. The man in the green hat. The auctioneer with his hands scanning across the sea of faces.

A hush fell over the crowd as the crescendo of anticipation intensified, but in my head there was a roar as loud as a freight train.

 "SOLD...to the man in the green hat.

Someone yelled,  "Did that little girl get her piano?"

Grandpa laughed and waved his green hat in the air as he pulled me into a hug.  My life had been forever interrupted,  changed by one extraordinary moment tucked into the corner of an ordinary day.

Usually we are too preoccupied with the mundane around us to live fully awake. But life is in the interruptions. The moments that catch us off guard wake us up and cause us to focus on the important rather than the urgent.

My piano student stopped suddenly in the middle of a song and stared at blood dripping on the keyboard..  As she touched her wiggly front tooth, her eyes widened with panic.

After I had pulled the tooth and cleaned her mouth, she poked her tongue through the hole and laughed. "I'm bigger now, Teacher! I got bigger right here in the middle of my piano lesson. We didn't know that would happen, did we?"

Arms of Love

Mary Cassatt

Four month old Lydia would not be comforted.  I followed the familiar sound of her increasing wails to the church nursery.  Peggy, who was loving the children in the nursery that morning, smiled at me in relief. "I think she needs one of her own,"  she said.

I snuggled Lydia close to me and began to quiet her with my love. Singing songs over her that she had been hearing since birth soothed her quickly to sleep.

She needs one of her own.

Baby Ellie was struggling with Tarry, a gentleman in our church who was trying to give her a bottle. I gave him a couple of suggestions, but when they didn't work he handed a frustrated Ellie to me. "She knows you. Why don't you try?"  Ellie settled into my arms, reached her hand up to touch my face as she always did when I fed her. She smiled at me, closed her eyes and began to enjoy her bottle peacefully.

She knows you.

Johnathan snuggled against me with his bottle. As the other children came to tell him good night, he pushed them away and began fussing. "He's tired now. He needs to be alone with me so he can go to sleep," I explained to them.

He needs to be alone with me.

When Nathanael was small, he would leave the noise and fray of other children to hold my hand.  It comforted him while he rested. Sometimes he would talk with me.  Sometimes he simply held my hand, reassuring himself he was safe and loved. After a few moments he would return to his play.

Comfort and rest in my presence.

 Maisy runs to me, arms outstretched, eager for the love she knows is always available for her. Looking at my familiar face, hearing my familiar voice, she delights in being with me. We like each other. We like being together. We think of one another and talk about one another even when we are apart.

Love and joy in my presence. 

Three year old Hannah looked up from her playful dancing to see a crowd of unfamiliar faces. Panic and tears came quickly.  She was lost, so afraid and overwhelmed....Then she saw me watching her and I smiled.    I reached out my arms and said softly, "Hannah, come to me".

The Lord is my refuge and strength, an ever present help in times of trouble. 

There is a Redeemer who loves you and wants you to be His own.  The Creator who knitted you together in the beginning of your moments knows everything about you.  Your fears can be soothed by His love.  Your frustrations can be tenderly smoothed away while you rest in His presence.

"Come to me," He says softly. "I will give you rest.  I will comfort you; I will quiet you with My love.  I will rejoice over you with singing.  In My presence you will find joy and I will give you rest." 

Wake up, Mr. Harris!

Elyce Feliz, photo

"I'm glad you stopped by," the man said, attempting a welcoming smile. "I didn't want to get out of bed this morning."

Shuffling over to the stove, he put the kettle on for some tea. I moved aside old mail and papers to place a vase of fresh lilacs on his table. His skin was pale, dry and translucent. The raggedy sweatshirt emphasized his worn, stooped shoulders. 

We sat on a bench under his mulberry tree and he told me his troubles with sleeping, depression and boredom with life. The fresh air was a treat after the stale odors of the house.

I had suggested on my last visit that he go to church and out to a restaurant during the weekend. 

"I decided to have a quiet weekend," he explained.  "It was a bad decision. I got pretty down and disappointed in myself. It doesn't take a whole weekend to rest up from doing nothing. I'll go out next weekend and find something interesting to do."

"Next weekend?" I objected. "Do something today."

He chuckled reluctantly. "Like what?"

Our neighborhood was waking up around us. We were entertained by children playing at the bus stop. Birdsong filled the air in the tree above us and squirrels were scampering up and down the trees. The sun was beginning to shine and the gray clouds were rolling away.

"Wake up, Mr. Harris," I urged as he followed me back into the kitchen. "God gave you today for a reason. Don't you want to find out what it is?"

I opened his windows to let fresh spring breezes waft in while he put on his walking shoes and combed his hair.

Walking through the neighborhood, he started a grocery list. He had once enjoyed cooking and would make a favorite recipe. "Oh, and I will pick up some of that newfangled almond milk I saw advertised. Craziest thing I ever heard. Must come from nutty cows," he laughed.

His dusty bread machine came off the shelf in his garage. A list of books he might enjoy from the library was jotted down on a note pad. He debated between Oreos and Fig Newtons, then decided he would bake his own cookies."

As I was leaving, he saluted me with his bottle of water and zipped up the front steps to "shower, shave and do a bit of spiffing". 

I know 'tis but a Dream, yet feel more anguish

Than if 'twere Truth. It has often been so:

Must I die under it?  Is no one near?

Will no one hear these stifled groans and wake me?

           ~Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

A Dandelion for Johnathan

"Oh, what a bright, cheery flower!" Johnathan thinks as he toddles across the yard. "I think I will pick it up and hold it."

His little legs squat and he reaches for a dandelion. The dandelion resists. Pudgy awkward fingers struggle again to grasp it, to pull harder. Still the dandelion remains firmly planted. He tries again and again with no success.

Our morning journey zigzags through dandelions and honeysuckle, over the hills and valleys of the yard.  He discovers rocks to carry, bugs to follow, sticks to swing and lilacs to smell. 

He follows a dried leaf blowing through the air. When the merry little breezes allow it to fall to the ground, Johnathan picks it up. It is a lesser prize, but at least it's something. 

Small arms lift the dried leaf toward the heavens. He babbles words up into the sky that I don't understand, but surely he is discussing his leaf with The Creator.

He drops the dried leaf and plops down among the golden dandelions. He slowly reaches toward a bright, golden dandelion and plucks it from the ground. 

Johnathan grins and lifts his treasure to the sky so God can see it. Then he stands up and looks at me. He smiles sweetly and gives away his treasure to me. 

There is a God who sees you and He is not silent.

Ask. And it will be given to you. Seek. And you will find. Knock. And the door will be opened for you. 

********
See also Following Nathanael, about Johnathan's big brother

Sarah's Freedom

Photo by Fernando Silvera

"Guilt is not a feeling. You are guilty or you are not guilty. Either way you can live a grace-filled life."

I scattered the word seeds onto the hard fallow ground of the women prisoners.

The Holy Spirit had these women in the palm of His hand and they were listening with a depth of hope I had seldom witnessed in my years of teaching.

Tears of hope began to soak wearied faces as I began to explain. "If you are guilty then you can be forgiven," I told them softly.  "If you are not guilty then you can stop beating yourself up."

Guilt shackles us whether we dwell in a cottage, an apartment or a prison. For years, even decades, many Christian women suffer under a burden of sin already forgiven and removed as far as the east is from the west. Their prison doors have been unlocked. Freedom from guilt has been bought by the redeeming blood of Christ's sacrifice.

Sarah is leaving prison this morning. She has been given her freedom because her debt has been paid. It is a freedom that has come after unimaginable sacrifice. She carries with her the scars of guilt for her wrong deeds as well as the scars of wrong deeds done to her.

Sarah could choose to remain shackled in chains even though she has been offered freedom. But, why would she do that?

A Happy Kitchen

My preschooler left the house one morning with his backpack, ran around the yard, then knocked on the front door. When I opened it, he grinned and handed me a bouquet of our recently planted tulips. He had decided a bouquet would "cheer me up and make the kitchen happy".

I hadn't realized we needed cheering up that ordinary morning. Breakfast preparations were started and the laundry was sloshing in the washer. Several items were already checked off my to-do list. I thought we were doing fine.

We juggle a dozen sticks of fire, plug a hundred dike holes and find ourselves so easily pulled from project to project, moment to moment. But, a child does not notice productivity. A child noticed that when I wasn't sparkling on an ordinary day, neither was the kitchen.

Through practice one learns to maintain a clean sink, uncluttered floors and sparkling counter tops. Pretty flowers or interesting rocks can grace even the most humble of tables. A diligent, disciplined woman who keeps watch over her home learns good stewardship of her time, energy and resources.

But cleaning up messes is one of the trade-offs for loving your family and celebrating life. Throw in a side order of ministries, career and soccer, and a tidy kitchen can be cluttered repeatedly by nightfall.

A clean kitchen is not the goal. God calls us to continually have a gladsome heart, to be a woman filled with praises, walking in joy regardless of sleepless nights, broken hearts and work stresses.

That table with fresh flowers, fresh strawberries and fresh muffins?  That's just one of the surprises God tucks into the corners of ordinary days to keep a busy mom going.

Train yourself for the purpose of godliness. Pursue a peaceful home. Dance joyfully through chaos. Hug those precious children. Keep planting your tulips.

The heart of your home is not your kitchen, it's you.


See also Making of a Woman