Repost from March 2013
I see it in my daughters, I remember seeing it in girls growing up, along with my sister and even my mom in hindsight. Girls naturally played with dolls, nurturing their God given instinct to care and love. They; like all women loved with a strong passion to be loved. Loved by someone special who would be willing to lay down their life for the purpose of true love. It doesn’t seem to matter how old girls get… They’re still little girls who love deeply and yearn to be loved deeply.
Likewise, little boys get older, more sophisticated, a bit cynical, and insecure enough to hide true feelings and hide behind the mask of indifference; but it’s just an act, they too are still living with the hopes, dreams, and desires they were born with. We played cowboys and Indians or army and pretended to fight and die for a just cause.
How many little boys have said the now famous words, “Look mom!” Sometimes it was said while holding our hands toward the sky while peddling our bikes, sometimes it was on top of something we’d climbed or conquered – whatever it is we were showing our mothers was for the same reason; we wanted to be acknowledged for our courage and bravery for that built in need of being respected to be fulfilled.
How many marriages melt into vapor because a woman doesn’t feel loved and/or a man doesn’t feel respected or significant? We’re all in need of the same things and our actions point to the fact that it is the desires we were born with.
All those things ran through my mind as she walked across the crosswalk. I could see the little girl in her even though she walked with a bad limp. Her clothes were worn and dirty along with her jeans faded to threads. Her white top and tennis shoes were dingy, gray and stained.
The vicious wind whipped her long gray hair back from her face revealing deep lines and age. She was carrying her life’s belongings in a cloth sack opposite her bad leg. We watched her walk into a drug store parking lot while I waited for traffic to allow a left turn.
My conscience wouldn’t allow me to drive on without trying to help the little girl who lost her dreams and was now old and homeless… No matter – she’s still someone’s daughter and child of the King. The little old girl was cynical, “We don’t want anything – we just want you to have this.” She finally lowered her cynical gaze, accepted the gift and answered, “God bless you! – God bless you for this!”
The little girl is older now. So am I, but we’re still children – God’s children. I just needed a reminder that day of heartbreaks and teddybears from our Father. As the aged little girl limped across that street with her things in a knapsack, the big brown and dirty teddy bear she held to her heart like a child was my heart’s reminder…