Saturday, July 12, 2014

The Children Are Running...

The sun came up and they could feel it in their bones…it wakes them and they slowly push off warm blankets. I have a closet full of them…extra blankets. Quilted, cotton, and frayed around the edges from years of being tucked in tight with love.

We heat up the griddle and stir the batter…homemade pancakes are making tummies growl…”May I please have seconds?” Of course you can…we can all have seconds and we will still have left overs… Save them for later or slip one to the dog who has been patiently waiting under the table?

It‘s Saturday, time to relax by the pool. My feet are up and I can see the sun screened kids with eyes bulging from too tight goggles…”Mom, Mom, Mom watch me. Watch me Mom. Are you looking?” Big dive from the deep end…clapping from the crowd. We have room for 10 more…easily.

The temperature heats up just a pinch…time for lemonade. Our container holds  several gallons. We have a mound of multi colored solo cups and straws…they couldn't possibly drink it all.

The doorbell rings kids trample in…open door policies are common in the South, or they used to be anyway. My mom taught us by example that you don’t turn people away when all it costs you is one more peanut and jelly sandwich.

I imagine she was following the example of Jesus when the crowd grew too large…the disciples panicked, but not Jesus…He multiplied the loaves. Mamas have that ability…we multiply, stretch, and add water to the pot of soup…until every mouth is fed.

I don’t think my story is far off from yours…after all, if you are reading this, you at least have a computer or an iphone…that puts you way head of poverty .

With every dumping of the leftover food down the garbage disposal…I can hear the children asking for a bite. The ones I see on the news…the refugees fleeing unthinkable conditions in hopes of a pair of loving arms that say…”You are safe now. Here, people can’t use you for drug trafficking or sexual pleasures...not on my watch. Here you can sleep through the night without fear. Here, being eight years old means school and sports and laughing and catching fire flies. It’s not perfect but it’s just.”  

My chest is burning…for me it’s the Holy Spirit. For you it could be the injustice…but I know its burning in you too. We have freedom, there is no greater human need. We can’t hoard this… There must be a better way. I’m not a politician, I don’t have all the answers…but I have extra blankets and I make a really good PB&J washed down with cold lemonade. I believe in my heart that you do too…

We aren’t just a Country, we are the heartbeat. We have the power to give life. They know it.

I have room. I want the children. If I care for one, and you do the same…we can trust our God to supply our needs.  I don’t want to hear about your policies…I want to hear you talk about the people. They are here…how will we respond? If we turn them away… we are giving them a death sentence.

The children are running. One foot in front of the other, pounding a path for the ones behind them. 

Read that again.  

I’m writing this letter to you…my elected official. I want you to get to the drawing board and make room for the children. Find a better way. Speak up for those who are the very least of these.

I want you to be brave and be a voice for me, the girl who voted you in office. Get creative, get on your knees, seek justice…swiftly. I am not alone. I am not the only one. We have empty bedrooms, extra seat belts, spare shoes, loads of laundry on the floor and aching hearts for the broken faces of children who run.

Talk to me…talk to us…give us a plan. You are the leader. You wanted this job. I need you to rise up…Look at your extras. How many could you take in?

Waiting, praying, hoping. Ready to respond.


Jesus said “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them. Matthew 19:14

Learn to do good. Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of the orphan. Isiah 1:17

Do unto others as you would have them do to you. Luke 6:31  


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