Yesterday morning as I was driving the children to school I looked down and it was 23 degrees--it's going to be a looooooong, cold winter. As we rounded the curve leading to the school the police officer who was usually standing outside wasn't there. "Wonder where the police officer is?" I asked.
As we approached we saw that he was actually parked in the parking lot in his car. "Must be trying to stay warm, " said William. "We should start bringing him hot chocolate or coffee in the morning." I suggested as I stopped the car to let them out. Dead silence and then Christopher looked at me quizzically--I often get that look; my children are not quite sure what to make of me and they're never sure whether I will do something "embarrassing". "Mama, no" he muttered. Caroline piped up from the back, "I will just die if you do that." I tell you it was very hard to resist the urge to tell her I was going to take her up on the challenge of proving her theory. Instead I said, "We used to take it to the crossing guard in Pittsburgh. Ya'll loved doing it." "Yeah I know and to everyone else. And we gave it to the mailman, but Mama I was five!" Caroline sputtered as she got out of the car. I felt a little sad...
When we lived in Pittsburgh we would take hot chocolate to the crossing guard when we went to pick Sarah Katherine up from school. We also took it to the parking lot attendant at the Children's Hospital every time we went down there (which was a lot!), and we gave it to the mail people in Pittsburgh, Lynchburg, and England. The children loved doing it so much that we had to have a chart (color coded of course) for who got to run to the door each day to hand the person the hot chocolate. I was so thrilled when I found that Costco sold Styrofoam cups with lids--that running to the door was pretty messy before I found those. It wasn't that anyone could stay and talk for very long--long cold routes they had to walk, but we felt like we did get to know them a little. It brightened our day and perhaps theirs as well.
On one level I understand (or try to) why Caroline said what she did for this particular situation. I suspect if I pull my car, with its monogram on it, over every morning and hand hot chocolate out of the window they will be noticed. Being a middle school girl is not for the weary. While you want to be noticed, you do everything in your power not to be noticed. I suppose all of middle school perhaps all of adolescence in general is a life continually lived as a paradox. Nonetheless, it bothered me and has stayed with me. I can't get the questions out of my mind. "When does it become uncool to show care and concern for others?" "When do we lose the innocence of a child who finds so much joy in caring for someone else--in caring for the stranger?" And most importantly "how do we stop it from happening? How do we keep our children from losing the joys they experience in childhood, the joys of helping others, as they enter adolescence and adulthood?" Perhaps the most disturbing questions in my mind is "Do we ever get it back?" "When do I, when do we adults, fail to notice someone and to care for someone because that person doesn't fit into our world or worse because we don't want to bring attention to ourselves?"
Many people volunteer in soup kitchens, food pantries, homeless shelters, and these are good things to do. It is good to get outside of ourselves and our own insulated worlds. It helps others, and lets be honest it feels good for us too. But I wonder do we show that same care and concern for those who are in our "worlds" or pass through our "worlds"? Do we seek out ways to extend the love of God to all those who come into our lives regardless of the cost? Or do we sometimes turn into adolescents not wanting to draw attention to ourselves, not wanting to be different. Do we keep our heads down and our eyes focused on ourselves and on those who are like us, who don't challenge us, who fit the status quo? Do we carry those things we learn in adolescence into our adult world? My prayer is that instead we carry our child like joy into our adult worlds--it just may brighten someone's day; it just might warm someone's heart (or hands).
I think I will go buy some Styrofoam cups....
"He said, 'Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:3)
1 comment:
Very nice piece of writing here. I can hear the voice of the "universal back seat child" as you retell your first person story. Thank you. And nice read on compassion. The Holy Spirit has a cool way of making us just a little weird. Walk the way as an apprentice pilgrim! Peace, J+
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