If I tried to make a living as a professional, full-time blogger, I'd be terrible at it. Case in point: it has been over a month since my last musing.
But this one is just in time for Valentine's Day. And on this upcoming day of love, I will herewith pay homage to children. And not just my children, mind you. All children.
What has given me great pause lately (not to mention chills, an upset stomach, and tremendous feelings of abject anger) has been the plethora of news stories we've been hearing about how little kids are mistreated by the very persons entrusted with caring for them. Should you, gentle reader, need reminding, I am referring, of course, to the disgusting stories we're hearing coming from local elementary schools, major research universities, and multiple venues in between.
What I realize I can't do is protect each and every little person out there. My God, how I wish I could. If there were a way to have a big enough home in which I could gather every child who was ever subject to such horrific abuses that we've all had the displeasure of hearing about, hug them, feed them toast and hot cocoa, love them and keep them safe, warm, protected and secure until their families and other adults in their lives got their respective acts together, I would. But I can't.
What I can do, though, is send meditative thoughts out into the universe and breath silent prayers that, at that very moment, each child who is suffering - for whatever reason - is finding peace, is safe, and unharmed. Just at that very moment. And maybe at the next moment.
What I can do is make sure that the little ones in my life know that they are cherished, special, and deserving of respect - from themselves and from others. Take, for example, the wonderful little guys who comprise my son's Cub Scout Wolf Den. Each of them come to our twice-monthly Den meetings with their own assorted amounts of energy, spunk and craziness. While their boundless enthusiasm could make even veteran Scout leaders totally pooped, I am grateful for the fact that pretty much all of them arrive and leave with smiles on their faces.
I look at the beautiful kids who go to school with David and Elizabeth, and whisper quiet prayers that their innocence, charm, wit, and general joie de vivre are never sullied or taken away from them.
I thank God that David and Elizabeth, the two little ones on this earth whose safety, security and health I have the most say about are, in fact, safe, secure and healthy. And I pray that they both know how very much they are entirely, completely and unconditionally loved.
As much as it is haunting and never ceases to leave me breathless, at once in a state of despair and hope, the eloquent poem, "We Pray for Children," by Ina Hughes, is remarkable:
- We pray for children
- who sneak popsicles before supper,
- who erase holes in math workbooks,
- who can never find their shoes.
- And we pray, for those
- who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
- who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,
- who never "counted potatoes,"
- who are born in places where we wouldn't be caught dead,
- who never go to the circus,
- who live in an X-rated world.
- We pray for children
- who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
- Who sleep with the cat and bury goldfish,
- Who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money,
- Who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink,
- Who slurp their soup.
- And we pray for those
- who never get dessert,
- who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
- who watch their parents watch them die,
- who can't find any bread to steal,
- who don't have any rooms to clean up,
- whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,
- whose monsters are real.
- We pray for children
- who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
- who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
- who like ghost stories,
- who shove dirty clothes under the bed,
- and never rinse out the tub,
- who get visits from the tooth fairy,
- who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
- who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,
- whose tears we sometimes laugh at
- and whose smiles can make us cry.
- And we pray for those
- whose nightmares come in the daytime,
- who will eat anything,
- who have never seen a dentist,
- who aren't spoiled by anybody,
- who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
- who live and move, but have no being.
- We pray for children
- who want to be carried
- and for those who must,
- for those we never give up on
- and for those who don't get a second chance.
- For those we smother…
- and for those who will grab the hand of anybody
- kind enough to offer it.
- We pray for children.
- Amen.
- Amen, indeed.
