This last weekend I had the joy of having my eight-year-old granddaughter for a sleepover. The moment she got into the car, she talked and talked. She spent the entire thirty minute drive from her home to mine telling me all sorts of things; from her favorite video games, to the personalities of all her friends. She was so excited to come over, she prattling on, telling me all the things we were going to do the second she stepped in my front door.
It had been a long time waiting for the energy and life to come back into my apartment. The pandemic robbed me of my grandchildren for over a year. My house seemed so empty and hollow. I even turned the large doll house I had furnished for them to play with, to the wall because the dolls in it looked so lonely. I couldn't stand them staring at me with their little doll eyes pleading "when will we be played with again?"
I adore my grandchildren. They are part of my calling. Having them spend a weekend fills my home with their energy and lights up all the dark corners. My gift to them is making each one feel special for a few days, as I dote on each one with all my love and attention. Having them around gives me new perspectives-- new ways of seeing at the world.
With my little girl chirping and questioning for two straight days, the house came alive again. She noticed everything, all the new things I had bought, the things I had taken down, and that the dollhouse was facing the wrong way, which we quickly remedied and she then spent time getting it back to it's old self. The dolls were happy.
We played games, made eggy-bread together, talked about her drawing (she is very good for eight), had drawing races where she told me what to draw and we both started scribbling. We looked at her fashion designs, and talked about how to realize them into dresses by making patterns. We played War, she won, we played tic-tac-toe and I won. And during a lull in all the activities, she decided we should go for a walk, as it was a beautiful day. I was hesitant...my city is not what it was two years ago. Riots, protests, the lack of law enforcement, coupled by the lockdowns had caused the homeless population to explode and the crime rate to rise. There were tents in the parks and needles on the ground. How could I explain all this without frightening her?
I begin to tell her that there were too many homeless people living in our neighborhood and it was a little dangerous to go to the park. She asked me why and I said because they have problems with taking drugs. To my surprise, instead of being scared by this new information, she was full of ideas on how we could help. She was honestly concerned about all these people and wanted to know how they got to be homeless. I said they couldn't have jobs and so they had no money. She wanted to go and give them money so they could find houses and food. I was touched that in her innocence she displayed a tremendous sense of caring. How often, in the past, had I looked the other way or felt annoyed at the tents in the park and the people going through our garbage bins?
But God was working on my perspective. The people on the street are lost, broken people whom society has decided are better left alone. The pandemic created a "shelter in place" ordinance that left those who are mentally ill or drug addicted out in filthy communities of tents with rats, damp and mud. I wasn't sure what the true answer was to the overwhelming problem, but I knew it lay somewhere in giving people hope. I had felt a fraction of that hopelessness when I thought I would never see my grandchildren, or have a normal life again. The people on the street see no way out at all.
Subie was very excited at the idea of giving money to the poor people living in the tents, so I explained to her that it may be better to give the money to organizations that help the homeless-- helping them with food, clothing and shelter. People who are struggling with drugs will only buy more drugs if they are simply given money and no way out, I explained. She wanted to know why these places helped and I said "Because God loves the homeless person and we need to show them that love." She asked me why I cared and I said, "because I am a Christian." She smiled at me and said, "I'm a Christian too."
In that moment we shared the true meaning of what Christianity is...a faith that truly lives in the power of Christ--in compassion-- it sees the needs of those on the edge, and it reaches out. My little Subie, in her child-like way with her deep caring heart, displayed the essence of God's love. She reminded me to view the people out on my streets through the eyes of a child.
