Family
A PRAYER FOR THE CHILDREN
We pray for the Children
who sneak Popsicles before supper,
who erase holes in math workbooks,
who can never find their shoes.
And we pray for those
who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,
who never "counted potatoes,"
who are born in places where we wouldn't be caught dead,
who never go to the circus,
who live in an X-rated world.
We pray for children
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.
And we pray for those
who never get dessert,
who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who can't find any bread to steal,
who don't have any rooms to clean up,
whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,
whose monsters are real.
We pray for children
who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their
food,
who like ghost stories, who shove dirty clothes under the
bed,
who never rinse out the tub,
who get visits from the tooth fairy,
who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at and
whose smiles can make us cry.
And we pray for those
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who have never seen a dentist,
who aren't spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who live and move, but have no being.
We pray for children
who want to be carried and for those who must,
who we never give up on
and for those who don't get a second chance.
For those we smother and . . .
for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to
offer it.
A Child's View of Retirement
After a Spring Break, a teacher asked her young pupils how they spent their holidays. One small child wrote the following: We always used to live with Grandma and Grandpa. They used to live in a big brick house, but Grandpa got retarded and they moved to Florida. Now they live in a place with a lot of other retarded people. They all live in little tin boxes. They ride on big three-wheeled tricycles and they all have name tags because they don't know who they are; and they have to put flowers on the antennas of their cars to help them find their cars.
They go to a big building called a wrecked hall, but they must have got it fixed, because it's all right now. They play games and do exercises, but they don't do them very good. There is a swimming pool there, but they stand in it with their hats on. I guess they don't know how to swim.
As you go into their park, there is a doll house with a little man sitting in it. He watches all day so they can't get out without him seeing them. When they sneak out, they go to the beach and pick up shells.
My Grandma used to bake cookies and stuff, but I guess she forgot how. Nobody cooks -- they just eat out. They eat the same thing every night: early birds. Some of the people don't know how to cook at all, so my Grandma and Grandpa bring food into the wrecked hall and they call it "pot luck."
My Grandma says Grandpa worked all his life and earned his retartment. I wish they would move back up here, but I guess the little man in the doll house won't let them out. -- Author Unknown
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THE CIRCUS
By Dan Clark
Once, when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter. This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. You could tell they didn't have a lot of money. Their clothes were not expensive, but they were clean. The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by-two behind their parent, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, elephants, and other acts they would see that night. One could sense they had never been to the circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives. The father and mother were at the head of the pack, standing proud as could be. The mother was holding her husband's hand, looking up at him as if to say, "You're my knight in shining armor." He was smiling and basking in pride, looking back at her as if to reply, "You got that right."
The ticket lady asked the father how many tickets he wanted. He proudly responded, "Please let me buy eight children's tickets and two adult tickets so I can take my family to the circus."
The ticket lady quoted the price. The man's wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, his lip began to quiver. The father leaned a little closer and asked, "How much did you say?"
The ticket lady again quoted the price. The man didn't have enough money. How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn't have enough money to take them to the circus?
Seeing what was going on, my dad put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill and dropped it on the ground. (We were not wealthy in any sense of the word!) My father reached down, picked up the bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, sir, this fell out of your pocket."
The man knew what was going on. He wasn't begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heart-breaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my dad's eyes, took my dad's hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear running down his cheek, he replied, "Thank you, thank you, sir. This really means a lot to me and my family."
My father and I went back to our car and drove home. We didn't go to the circus that night, but we didn't go without.
"It is more blessed to give than to receive." - Acts 20:35 (NIV)
"Give and it shall be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." - Luke 6:38 (NIV)
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