the little children

Two images:

(1) I'm sitting at the bar. In front of me is a wall of sports pictures. You know the type - the great hockey moment; the pensive face of the coach in deep thought; the slam dunk. All signed, of course. This wall had, overall, a very refined look to it, compared to most.

Except.

Except for that one picture, right in the middle.

The beautiful blond haired boy. Probably about 5 years old. Maybe 6. But not older than that.

He's in the stands at a baseball game. Red Sox fan shirt very visible. I guess his picture was hanging there because someone thought it was cute.

Instead, it's a very sad picture. This beautiful little boy has that angry shouting sports fan face going. He's leaning forward. Mouth open in a growling shout. Right arm extended . . . giving the finger. To the ump? To the Yankees? Who knows.

But it was about the saddest thing I've seen. And maybe more so because it was hanging there because someone thinks it cute.

Second image (2) I stay with a young family. Three small children. The oldest is a boy about the same age as the one in the picture.

Going to church was still a pretty new thing to this young father, in his mid-30's. He hadn't grown up going to church. It wasn't out of 'habit'. I ask him what started it all - what had gotten him through the door in the first place?

His answer: "My son said to me, 'Dad, I'd like to go worship God with you.' "

*****
We can nurture the best, or the worst, in these children. What a gift to me to see some of the best being nurtured in these three young children. And through them, being nurtured in their parents. What a gift to be welcomed into that.