Children are for Sharing

Life can be pretty fun with small children, and after the week that I've had, also extremely frustrating and tiring, but on the whole Fun.  Their little voices are just so cute  as they giggle and play and snuggle up to read a book (or eat one, depending on their age and stage).  I've become increasingly convinced, however, that children are also for sharing.

We get told that we are a 'global village', but I think the every day reality as you walk down the street, especially in a big city, is one of individualism and busyness.  We can retreat into our own little worlds and struggle to connect with others, especially people we've never met before.  Children, however, can burn through all of that like a laser beam.  I now really try to take the time, whilst counselling Hannah to "Sit down... Stay where Mummy can see you... Put that back on the shelf - you can look, but don't touch," to see who is watching my kids and, if appropriate, take the opportunity to have a chat with them.  There's nothing like a 2 year old "changing bug's (a toy we take in the pram) nappy" in the waiting room, while your waiting to see a GP to connect with those around you and brighten their day.  It's such a natural way to strike up conversations as people start by asking their ages, and then keep on chatting.  I've been amazed at some of the more personal things people have told me, because being friendly and having kids with me seems to mark me out as someone trustworthy.  And the kids, aside from bringing smiles and giggles to those around them, can have a ministry all of their own.  One that sometimes I can learn from.

I remember my brother and sister-in-law telling me that their oldest son came home from school one day and declared that during lunch he had told his friend Jimmy that "he was going to go to hell because he didn't believe in Jesus."  While I wouldn't generally recommend that as an evangelism method, it certainly is direct!  One of my other favourite stories comes from an email that was circulating a few years ago.  Some of the details may be a bit off, but the gist is that a mother was busy working in her kitchen when she looked out the window and saw her 3 year old son sitting out on the porch of their next door neighbour's house, snuggled up on the elderly gent's lap.  She hoped that he wasn't being too annoying, because the old man had just lost his wife of fifty years.  Eventually the boy hopped down and came back home.  His Mum asked him what he had been doing next door and the little boy said, "Mr Jones is very sad, so I was helping him cry."

I hope that I can be so free to rejoice with others when they rejoice, and mourn with them when they mourn.