Faith that runs with abandon

     Mindlessly tidying up the kitchen, I caught a shadowy glimpse out of the corner of my eye. A giant, it seemed, skirting quickly but awkwardly past the window.

     Seven hundred mopped up crumbs and six seconds later.

     “Momma. Momma. You have to come here. You HAVE to see what we just found,” they hollered, heavy feet hitting the floor, doors slamming open. Dog barking. 

     My senses, sluggish from the moments of silence I’d just savored, jerked to a start at the commotion.

     “Hang on. Hang on,” I pleaded, slowly wandering into the other room to locate shoes. And wondering, “What on earth did my children dig up this time? Ugh. It will be dirty. And messy, no doubt. And I’ll be stuck cleaning up the mess.”

     I did my best to paint on a smile and follow their impatient prompting to the garage.

     Where did sit behind my minivan a small pile of enormous pieces of metal.

     Which explains the giant passing before my front window.

     Which explains my children’s unquenchable excitement.

     They love to collect aluminum.

     “Is it aluminum, Mom, is it?” they ask, jump-dancing in muddy shoes-too-big, practically squealing.

     “I don’t know,” I proceed slowly, wondering how exactly I should react in the best supportive mommy role. “We’ll have to ask dad when he gets home. In the meantime, can you put it on this side of the garage so I won’t run over it when we leave to go up to the school?”

     That was it. That was all.

     On Monday, my children were playing outside when they saw these rather large, jagged pieces of what turned out to be aluminum blowing across the field near our house. Remnants of the storm the day before that passed over with authority before evolving into a tornado and devastating a community, literally flattening hundreds of homes not-too-far north of ours.

     They didn’t think about the fact that the ragged pieces, twisted corners and bulky weight of these tiles could slice open their legs as they raced across the field to show off their find.

     All they thought was, “This could be aluminum.”

     Why are they so excited about aluminum?

     Recycled aluminum can bring in a decent chunk of change. Particularly big pieces. I imagine from what they know of aluminum and money, it could make them “rich.”

     But they weren’t thinking of themselves at all.

     They weren’t thinking about the potential to be seriously hurt.

     They weren’t thinking about cashing it in for personal gain.

     They weren’t thinking about a stack of toys they could buy with the money.

     They were thinking only about other people.

     They were thinking about Chance Newingham, who collects and cashes in aluminum to buy food.

     They were thinking about the 20 hungry children who live in the orphanage in Sierra Leone who would be the beneficiaries of that food.

     They were living out their faith.

     And all I was thinking in that moment was, “You could have been hurt.” “You put that in my way.” “Now we’re running late.”

     Four days later and after complaining several times about having to navigate around the pile, the gravity of this little event sunk in.

     There I was, content in a rare moment of solitude, checking things off my to-do list and protesting while my children ran with abandon.

     They ran with abandon of fear, frustration, discontentment, selfishness and anxiety.

     They ran with confidence to live out the gospel.

     They ran without regard for self but motivated by the love they have for brothers and sisters they’ve never met.

     Oh, how heavy was my heart when I realized how I disregarded this act of courage!
     
     That God did, does and continues to allow beauty to rise from ashes. That a storm so catastrophic in central Illinois could somehow touch the lives of orphans on the west coast of Africa.
     
     How often, do you suppose, do we neglect to notice the selfless love our children effortlessly throw out all over the place? Focusing instead on what’s on our calendar or our to-do list. Chastising them for making us late, goofing off or caring about “silly things.”

     Is it any wonder that Jesus loved children so much? Is it any wonder that He tells us we should have faith like theirs? Matthew 19:14, Matthew 18:3

     What a beautiful picture my children painted.

     If I could do it over, I would stand in the front yard and cheer for them. No, I would run with them — run with abandon — to do the small things. The small things that turns out are really the big things.