For those who love the little ones

For those who work with children,
for those with big hearts, open hearts,
and arms wide to embrace the world;
for those who have poured out love to the least of these,
even on my own children,

For family, teachers, coaches, piano teachers, principals, babysitters, 4h leaders, and all of those whose hearts have room for children and strangers...

God's people give thanks.

The love you pour out has not been given in vain. The messes you've cleaned in secret, the discipline,  the nurturing,
the words of wisdom that seem to have fallen on deaf ears- your work, done in the Lord, has not been done in vain.

Many do not see or understand the sacrifices you make. But God does see. And I do hope you know that those sweet words from him are coming to you: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

As I consider these things, an image from The Great Divorce by CS Lewis springs to memory. The author imagines a trip to heaven, and he imagines those great redeemed Spirits in whom the work of God has been done. And this is the part that made me think of you:

Some kind of procession was approaching us, and the light came from the persons who composed it. First came the bright Spirits, not the Spirits of men, who danced and scattered flowers-- soundlessly falling, lightly drifting flowers...Then, on the left and right, at each side of the forest avenue, came youthful shapes, boys upon one hand, and girls upon the other. If I could remember their singing and write down the notes, no man who read that score would ever grow sick or old. Between them went musicians: and after these a lady in whose honor all this was being done.

I cannot now remember whether she was naked or clothed. If she were naked, then it must have been the almost visible penumbra of her courtesy and joy which produces in my memory the illusion of a great and shining train that followed her across the happy grass. If she were clothed, then the illusion of nakedness is doubtless due to the clarity with which her inmost spirit shone through the clothes. For clothes in that country are not a disguise: the spiritual body lives along each thread and trusn them into living organs. A robe or a crown is there as much one of the wearer's features as a lip or an eye.

But I have forgotten. And only partly do I remember the unbearable beauty of her face.

“Is it? … is it?” I whispered to my guide.

“Not at all,” said he. “It's someone ye'll never have heard of. Her name on earth was Sarah Smith and she lived at Golders Green... She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quiet different things.”

“And who are all these young men and women on each side?”
“They are her sons and daughters.”
“She must have had a very large family, Sir.”
“Every young man or boy that met her became her son—even if was only the boy that brought the meat to her back door. Every girl that met her was her daughter...”

“...now the abundance of life she has in Christ from the Father flows over into them.”

Almighty God,
Bless and keep Your children with the big hearts and willing hands. Be with them in weariness and discouragement, and grant them moments of refreshing.  Defend them from despair and bitterness, and uphold them in Your grace. Grant strength for each day, compassion for each suffering soul you send, and rest in the grace of Jesus for each weary head this night.
Confirm the work of your hands, Lord, and sustain us until that day when we can see it, too.
Amen.

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Perhaps this post made you think of someone specific. Why not share it with them as a way to say 'thanks?'