Wednesday, May 29, 2013

The Imagery of a Parent

As I rolled to a red light a few blocks away from work, a mother and her daughter caught my eye walking along the sidewalk. The girl, in a black raincoat with pink, purple and yellow polka dots smattering it, intently trying to walk while clutching her plastic bag of goldfish- the mother, guiding her away from the edge of the sidewalk that she was so intent on walking right off.

You could see the innocence of the girl- she was using all of her might to walk without falling over, while intently trying to open the ziplock bag. As her mother redirected her away from the sidewalk, she glanced up to see the crosswalk button- you could see her posture immediately change as this new object entered her consciousness. She raced for it, hand outstretched, only to wind up on the ground, having lost her concentration needed for walking. She picked herself up, gingerly lifting the prized goldfish crackers with one hand while reaching up to proudly hit the crosswalk button- and as soon as she did, it was promptly forgotten, as she turned her full attention now to opening this bag of goldfish. Her brow furrowed, she picked at the seam, with her mom keeping an eye on her to see if there were any repercussions from the aforementioned fall. My light turned green, and I carried on my way, being struck by the whole situation- not because of it's uniqueness, which there is none, but because of the innocence of the daughter, and the guiding force of the mother.

Often times, we jump from goal to goal in our lives- seeing only what is just in front of us. A bag of crackers, in this case, might be an example of the next meal you plan on enjoying- whereas the button you press might be the next activity you are determined to accomplish. All the while, struggling just to stay upright and off the ground, as your attention zips from goal to goal. The innocence of the human mind in this interaction is astounding- as we are just bouncing from one thing to the next, finding satisfying interactions that give us bits and pieces of meaning.

Aren't I just like that little girl, with my Father guiding me and keeping me from falling off the sidewalk? Even as the girl was truly unaware of her mother tugging on her hand to keep her from walking into an intersection, is not my Father also holding my hand and keeping me from walking into insurmountable danger without my knowledge? Isn't he looking down at my furrowed brow as I attempt to hit that crosswalk button, or open my bag of goldfish, making sure the fall I just had didn't set me back? Isn't he watching, every time I fall? Isn't he the one that gave me the goldfish in the first place, or held my hand as we walked down the sidewalk, or even provided the raincoat for me?

He is. Every step, every furrowed brow, every cheesy delicious cracker, every fall- He is there, as I am also there for my own children, as this mother also was for hers.

Look around- He is everywhere, in everything, looking on with love and concern over us all.

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