Today I walked 5 miles. It was very, very hard and I wasn’t sure I would make it. I do well for about 3 miles, but then everything starts to hurt. At times like these, I feel frail and vulnerable. If something or someone chased me, I’d never be able to run away. I don’t like the feeling.
I walked up to the Twin Brooks subdivision and walked a little while by the ravine. To my delight, there was a group of kids – there looked to be maybe a dozen 2- and 3-year olds on a hike with their camp leaders. Children of that age are so much fun to be around – they are so curious about everything around them. When I saw them, they were all huddled around a bug that was partially hidden in the grass. It must have been injured or something. As I passed by, I heard one of the leaders say to another, “Oh look, they are covering it up with a leaf so nobody steps on it.”
Regardless of the effectiveness, or lack thereof, of their strategy, my heart melted to think of how at that age, our thoughts are often to protect the more vulnerable things, the frail things in our midst. What is touching about seeing things like that is the realization of how frail and vulnerable they are as well, even though they don’t know it. They use what power is available to them to help others.
I wonder if some of this idea of the frail helping the frail, or the vulnerable helping the vulnerable, is in part what Jesus gets at in Matthew 18:3:
“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”