SOMEONE’S CHILD

It doesn’t matter how old, it is someone’s child. It could be 90 or 9 or 9 months, it is someone’s child. It could be you, or me, or your own child. We are all: someone’s child.

This morning, I went out to get my usual coffee and buttered roll, and as I entered the Handy Pantry, there stood at the counter an elderly woman. The small counter was loaded with groceries, cans, boxes and loose vegetables. Except for it being such a large order, I didn’t think much about it, and went to the coffee pots. I poured a cup, placed a lid on it and went to pay for it. There still stood the older woman. She was small, somewhat delicate and overburdened by her purchases. She was struggling to put her change in her purse, and gather her many bags. She looked up at me and seemed embarrassed and apologetic for still being there and taking so long. I reassured her that she need not hurry on my part, that she should take her time.

Without sounding elitist or obnoxious, she seemed somewhat simple in her manner. Her focus was trying to explain herself to me! Her shoddy coat, her head covered with a tied-on scarf, she dragged herself out of the store. She made me feel sad. Funny thing is I felt sad not so much for her, as for her parents! Yes, she was much older than me, and I felt sad for her parents, parents who are long ago dead! Why? Because I wondered if they looked down on her at that moment and realized she was so vulnerable.

I often wonder if those that passed on look down on us, and view our lives from the other side. Do they see when we are in danger, do they see when we struggle and fall? Do they cry when that happens? Do they worry?

As a father of three children that live in my world, I worry about them. I might get angry with them from time to time, but rest assured, they are someone’s children. Mine. I think about how we hurt each other, and cripple and maim. I see pictures of orphans, tears in their eyes as they struggle to survive, maybe hiding from some predator, and I think, that is someone’s child!

I often wonder if my in-laws, my father and mother-in-law look down on their daughter. Do they think I take good enough care of their daughter? Do they worry about her because of me? I try, but is it good enough?

So when you start to lose your cool, maybe want to smack someone, remember, it is someone’s child.

Please remember DD, and all those that need our prayers.