Are We Listening for His Voice in Katrina's Aftermath?
- Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Jesus loves the little children,
All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
All are precious in His sight.
Jesus loves the little children of the world.
In my 20 plus years of working with children and families I have come to understand that God doesn’t see the differences that we see.
He sees His children, all one in the same. He loves His precious children, all one in the same.
Think how different our world would be if the children of today didn’t see the differences. If they could connect with one another regardless of neighborhood or race. If the children that have, could know the children that don’t. If they could all grow up together.
A storm named Katrina may be the instrument God uses to connect His precious children.
Growing up in Mississippi, now living in Baton Rouge, I stood by as Katrina turned us upside down and inside out. My heart shattered as the storm’s ferocious winds destroyed my beloved Mississippi coastline. I watched in disbelief as waters, ever so slowly, but ever so surely, flooded homes of those who already had more troubles than most of us can understand.
We’re not going to discuss the reason why Katrina came…that’s God’s business, not ours.
Our duty is to listen for His still small voice in the aftermath of the storm.
A Personal Story
I found myself sitting in awe of God in the darkness of the wee hours following the storm. His compassion flooded over me with a wash of His great love. His light came into my darkness. The gentle waft of His breath touched my face.
“Take care of my children,” I heard Him whisper. “I tell you the truth, whatever you do for one of the least of these, you do for me.”
In the days that followed I found myself holding the untouchable, embracing His little ones, and loving the unlovable. After a long day, I stood in the middle of one of our shelters, exhausted, but not wanting to leave the children, when I felt a tug at my skirt. I looked down to see a dear child with arms stretching to the heavens pleading, “Hug me.” Not ‘pick me up’ or ‘hold me’ as little ones so often say, but 'hug me.'
When I lifted the frail body of this hungry child to my chest, she wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my torso. Her head fell on my shoulder as I squeezed her to me. After a moment she pulled back to rock her head from side to side while gently stroking the sweaty bangs that fell across my eyes.
“Have you come to stay with me?” she asked, as her tiny hands held my face near to hers.
Looking in those big brown eyes, starving for love, I muttered, “For a time… but there is Someone who has come to stay with you today, tomorrow and the next.”
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