Faith of Little Children

The past few months have convinced me more than ever - more than the acknowledgement that my waistline will suffer as a result of the Swiss Cake Rolls eaten yesterday, more than the acceptance that those younger than me will continue to irritate me by calling me ma'am - that little children have an internal phone line which connects them directly to the Almighty ears of God. (Should I have capitalized ears? hmmmm)

The pure-hearted calls of a child to the One that they know listens best are never dropped, reception is remarkably clear and infinite minutes are available in their accounts. Pint-sized requests are never followed by the statement, "Can you hear me now? How 'bout now?" and their self esteems never bruised if they don't' find themselves in a Fave Five.

This coverage, so readily available to Pee Wee Believers everywhere, reflects an Almighty response to an innocent request. A request that comes from a place of purity, one that is not yet jaded by self-sufficiency or self promotion, one that is not slowed by hesitancy, doubt or unbelief.

Just like in Gunsmoke, when the Sheriff was quick to the draw with his gun in times of trouble, my children are just as quick to the draw with a prayer to help them in times of need.

A few months ago, God blessed my oldest son with an immediate answer to a pretty desperate prayer. I did not blog about the incident at the time, mainly out of sinful, parental pride and also because it didn't exactly portray us as All-Star Parents. But, since that time, and through my incessant blogging, I believe that I have fully shattered any false images I may have conjured or tricked others into believing, which in reality, is actually a blessing as now I can be more transparent. In Jesus' name, of course.

So, my son was dropped off by my husband at guitar practice,which is held in a neighborhood just off of a busy highway. As my husband was pulling away from the house, he was unaware that there was not anyone home.

I had been told the previous week that lessons would be cancelled, but that tidbit of information only remained in my feeble brain for just a few seconds and,unfortunately, was not communicated to my spouse . Clearly, I dropped the scheduling ball and take full responsibility for the calendar mishap. However, I can not speak for the one who did not glance in his rear view mirror after pulling away to ensure safe entrance to said lesson, thus missing the eight year old boy running desperately behind his father's truck, with backpack and lunchbox in hand.

Ahem.

I have gathered myself.

Chase, the child left behind, later said that when he realized he would not be able to catch up with his dad, he looked around, and realized he was all alone. By himself. My baby.

I have gathered myself again.

Chase decided that he would walk back to school where he knew school personnel would contact his delinquent, irresponsible, calendar-challenged parents. School was several miles away, and Chase knew he would have to navigate through the neighborhood to get to the interstate that would lead him to his desired destination. He said he began walking for several minutes and then became overwhelmed at the task before him.

"I really didn't know what to do except drop to my knees, " he later recounted. "So, I dropped my book bag, my lunchbox and kneeled on the pavement. I prayed to God and told him that these were desperate times and that I was going to need His help."

Chase walked for several more minutes and a mini-van that seemed out of nowhere pulled up beside him. An older woman ("Someone even older than you, Mom") asked him if he needed help and my son explained his situation. She was familiar with his school and offered him a ride.

While this scenario left me numb for days and prompted repeated discussions with my children about getting into the car with strangers who may offer puppies, candy and Pokemon cards, I can't discount the immediate assistance provided on the heels of a child's plea for help from his God. Chase said he was never scared and the lady was very kind, and in his words, "like somebody's grandma who didn't like seeing a little kid on the side of the road."

Again, All Star parenting at its best.

The Good Samaritan dropped Chase off at the front entrance of his school, where he thanked the lady for her timely rescue, exited the van and walked immediately to the nearest teacher. Fighting back tears, he quickly explained the circumstances, turning to point out the vehicle that had just dropped him off safely.

And there was not anybody there. There was not a car in sight.

(Personally, I believe that the absence of the mini van can be explained by another parent's scheduling mistake. Somewhere in Idaho, Vermont or Switzerland, there was a child of faith praying outside of piano lessons, baseball practice or a clogging demonstration, for a ride home and parents with better memories. God called upon our transportation angel to rescue another one of His children inadvertently left behind.)

Several minutes later, John and I received the call which sent me straight into orbit and later, to my knees. Chase requested that his dad pick him up because "you're just gonna freak out like you do, mom".

A week later Chase shared his experience with about 100 students from his school during chapel, explaining to his classmates how God not only had heard his prayer but He had answered it as well. I watched those children listen to my son speak, nodding their heads in agreement, fully accepting and believing in the true Author of that particular story.For Chase, and little children who believe, faith seems to be instinctive and immediate, and one that I pray I emulate better.

I had planned on including additional examples of the wonder and joy of witnessing the faithful prayers of a little child but I will have to wait until the next post.

Now, I feel an urgent need to lecture my children again about getting into the car of a stranger.

And eat a Swiss Cake Roll.