The Lord himself watches over you! The Lord stands beside you as your protective shade. The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon at night. The Lord keeps you from all harm and watches over your life. The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever. [Psalm 121:5-8 (NLT)]
See, I have written your name on the palms of my hands. [Isaiah 49:16a (NLT)]
As I stood by the community pool, taking photos of the grands, I noticed that I wasn’t the only person keeping watch. Two lifeguards kept their eyes on the pool full of people. These young women probably go all summer without having to rescue someone and their main purpose is to keep rowdy children (and adults) in line. Still, it is a tremendous responsibility for a couple of teenagers. As attentive as they were to the swimmers, I wasn’t about to trust either one of them with the safety of my loved ones and my eyes remained on the little guys.
To the lifeguards, keeping watch over the swimmers is a just a job and my two grands were merely two of many children. They were just the little girl in the turquoise suit and the dark-haired toddler with the red noodle wrapped around his waist. To me, however, they have names and personalities. They are my children (one generation removed), cherished and loved. While their names aren’t written on my hand, they are in my heart! I know we live in a troubled and sin-filled world and that I can’t protect them from all harm but, loving them as I do, I’m not about to let anything bad happen to them on my watch!
Of course, the only one who truly guards my grands (or even me, for that matter) is God. Guarding us, however, is not just a job for Him as it is for those lifeguards. Because we are His children, He watches over us out of love, not duty. His love for us is greater than that of a mother for her child (or a grandma for her grands) and He will guard us with a ferocity that would put a mama bear to shame. To God, we’re not the concerned grandma at the pool, the bearded old man with a walker, the surfer dude in yellow board shorts, or the bratty little kid in the green shirt—we’re Julie, John, Brent, and Avery, His beloved children.
A fellow at church often wears a shirt with the message, “My lifeguard walks on water!” Indeed, He does.
Warm summer nights at the lake mean campfires, s’mores and fireflies. As the darkness descends, bug jars appear and the children start chasing these fascinating insects. How odd that the same child who will shirk away from any insect during the day will give chase to and capture these flashing winged beetles at night. By the end of the evening, the children have collected a jarful of tiny flying stars (that will be released as soon as the little ones are tucked into bed).
My doorbell rang and, by the time I got to the door the FedEx man was walking away, having left a large box on the porch. As he backed out of the driveway, I shouted a thanks and brought in my latest order from Amazon.
When my children were younger, there were several occasions that I wanted to pretend I had no idea to whom they belonged! There was that time one noticed (and used) the red emergency stop button on an escalator, or another discovered the meaning of the “domino effect” after pulling over one stanchion at the airport and seeing another ten follow suit, or one managed to be so nasty to the babysitter that she went home in tears, or when hotel security came knocking because of spitballs dropping from the window of our children’s adjoining hotel room. I really didn’t want to admit I knew them, let alone had given birth to them. We expected better from our children and their conduct certainly didn’t bring honor to our name. Unfortunately, their behavior, while unacceptable, was a somewhat unavoidable and unpleasant part of their growing up. Fortunately, those times of boundary testing are long over and I am now proud that they bear my name.
Writing about my granddaughter yesterday made me think about birth defects. In actuality, all of us have what could be called birth defects—it’s just that some are more obvious than others. While all of God’s children have defects, none are defective. I consider a young man at our Florida church. Cerebral palsy keeps him strapped into a wheel chair and his physical limitations are immense. There is, however, nothing defective about this bright young man. I ponder the enthusiastic grocery worker with Down’s syndrome. She may have an extra chromosome, but there is nothing defective about her. I think of a fellow at church who has no ears. He may be deaf but there is nothing defective about him, nor is there anything defective about a friend’s grand born with only a partial arm and hand or my grand, with her heart defects and learning issues. They are all marvelously made—different from others, but no less wonderful.
I have a small wooden box on my desk—my “God box.” It’s where I literally give my concerns to God; right now there are three items in it. The first is a photograph of a little girl. It is my grand, a sweet child with three congenital heart defects—none of which is going to disappear and all of which promise more trouble in the future. She also has learning issues—none of which will dissipate and all of which will cause more difficulty as she progresses into higher grades. The second item is a medallion from a sobriety program. It represents several people I love who have battled alcoholism or addiction—a battle they will continue to fight daily for the rest of their lives. The third item is a laminated card on which is written Reinhold Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer. That one is for me.
Devotions of the Heart 