Small Hands and Silhouettes

“although you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, you have revealed them to little ones.” Mt. 11:25

What does it really mean to live as God’s children or little ones?

One answer: photos of the World Cup, where children escort players onto the field, a traditional part of the pageantry since 2002. In the words of Mia Gómez Solis, age 7, “Mommy, I got to go with the captain! [of the Australian team] He held my little hand and we walked out.” 

Quaker sponsors this year’s Player Escort Program. In the United States, it has given 1,400-plus children from marginalized communities in or near the 11 host cities a “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to walk professional players onto the pitch,” organizers say.  Non-profit organizations sponsor soccer clinics for mostly immigrant youth from underserved areas, then choose the children from participants. It’s such a small, human touch in that huge arena before a high stakes game with thousands of fans.

If we want to live as God’s children, it may not be too much of a stretch to imagine God taking our hands, assuring us we’re accompanied into a world that may seem big and overwhelming. And surprising us with the “thrill-of-a-lifetime”…

Another answer: our family has rented a beach house for vacation annually over the last ten years. It has become what St. Frances de Sales would call “our place of rest and delight,” where we are most alive, happy, at peace. We’ve watched the children grow on this holy ground, from toddlers eating sand to middle schoolers entertaining more sophisticated dangers like boogie boards. The primary activity and highlight of our time there is the children rushing into glacially cold waters, shrieking, splashing, and never wanting to get out. They know they’re not allowed to go in the water without an adult, so behind the small, frail silhouettes in the vast ocean poise vigilant parents, aunts and uncles, counting to make sure all six are there, ready to jump in if needed.   

That protective guard means the children can play carefree, dancing with waves, being part of something huge and potentially scary without worry. And we? Would we be so anxious if we were convinced of a protective parent behind us? Perhaps that unseen presence has brought us here to the beach after another year, with its trials and threats, depressions and exhilarations. Strength beyond our strength, love beneath our loves, we ask this God who creates and commands the seas to grace us with another year of joy, surprise, protection, survival and untold blessing. If we can image God as shepherd, why not as lifeguard?