A half century ago I have a vague memory of a public service ad on television. I don't remember what was the cause. I do recall one line of a song that ran in the background, though. A mournful female singer sand, "Sometimes I feel like a motherless child." For whatever reason, that made a big impression on me as a kid. I guess I had "poor-me" moments wherein I did feel like a motherless child. However, I had a mom, and those feelings would pass. It disturbed me that there were people in the world who really felt like that all the time.
There are people all around us who feel like motherless children, regardless of their age, and aside from having biological mothers. They may feel like motherless children because they are older now, and the world keeps getting more and more confusing to them at a geometric rate. Or, they may feel that way because they are young, living in the dog-eat-dog world of accelerated pressure on youth, wondering, "Is this all there is? Am I just supposed to survive this endless competition of who has the highest ACT score, who gets the starting spot on the team, who wins the pageant, who sets the social pace?" Some people may feel like motherless children because of in illness; an unseen but powerful demon damaging their bodies. Some may feel orphaned by life do to rising mortgage payments and shrinking paychecks. Others may feel like motherless children because of relationships gone south, and they're wondering if anyone will ever really know them and really love them.
Emotional, relational, physical, spiritual orphans are everywhere. They are all around us. They are among us. They are in our social networks, on-line and face-to-face. They are in our groups, our offices, our churches. Sometimes they are us. In my world - that of organized churches - such people aren't turning to us and looking for dynamic music, inspirational speakers, slick programs, and impressive facilities. Essentially, if they are turning to us at all, they are asking, "Will someone please adopt me?"
I'll see you around the next bend in the river.
Raking Leaves
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Fall is here. The sun is moving towards the edge of the frame where, in
just a few weeks it will hit the bumper rail and start back towards the
other side...
2 years ago
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