Touching the Intangible

For children, it’s easier to believe in the unseen. They haven’t fully experienced life yet. They believe in pretend and their imaginative, carefree worlds and playmates are their now. They live life on the edge because that’s a fun place to be. Fear of tomorrow isn’t yet on their radar.

God’s little ones see the world in rainbows. Adults see it in black and white, and perhaps, muted shades of gray every now and then.

Children trust that the string to their kites will hold, despite the wind. Many adults don’t fly their kites anymore; they’d rather sit back and look at them because they can’t lose what they don’t risk. Life’s wrinkles have not only impaired their ability to fold the laundry, but to wear it, too! (Clothing doesn’t get dirty again if it’s never worn.) It’s a little like life.

Without embracing it, opportunity is removed. The adventure of what God intends remains safely tucked away. It’s pretty to look at, visualize, contemplate, and admire but the essence of what it could be isn’t fully understood.

When I was a little girl, a favorite teacher was “Mrs. Marshall.” Mrs. Marshall was pleasingly plump and always wore dresses with brightly colored scarves and pins. Her wavy, gray hair was styled in a tasteful up-do as was the order of the day. She usually sported black or brown thick-heeled pumps and they made a unique clomping noise as she led our class to the bathrooms, lunch, and recess.

Now, Mrs. Marshall was no-nonsense when it came to rules, but she was always quick to smile, too, and she gave the best hugs. I thought she was beautiful and I loved her.

One day, little “Roberta” walked into class after the bell rang. Roberta looked like she always did—dirty, unkept, sad, tired, and miserable. Her clothing was stained, as usual, and her long, dark hair fell limply about her drooping shoulders. She didn’t have many friends and her countenance registered the fact.

“I’m glad you could join us today, Roberta.” Mrs. Marshall’s voice was kind.(Even though I was a youngster, her tone and demeanor that day spoke volumes, for Mrs. Marshall grasped the enormity of this child’s station in life when, perhaps, no one else dared to care.)

Roberta nodded and hung the garment that sufficed as a coat on her assigned wall peg.

We began our morning assignments, and sometime later, I saw Mrs. Marshall pull up a chair beside Roberta’s desk. Gently, she took little Roberta’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Jesus loves you, Roberta, and so do I. One day, things will be better.”

(It was a different day and time then. Teachers could say things like that in a public school without fear of reprisal.)

The change in Roberta was immediate. Her chubby, dirt-smudged cheeks reflected pretty dimples as she smiled.

“I know, Mrs. Marshall,” she returned softly. “You want to know how I know?”

Mrs. Marshall leaned in closer to Roberta, not speaking, and awaited her answer.

Roberta then extracted her small hand from Mrs. Marshall’s much larger one and brought her palm up to rest on our teacher’s sweet face. 

Her voice was but a whisper…

“I know because God’s here.”

***

That was a profound moment for me as a child. I couldn’t define the intangible then, but later (again, through another teacher’s example, too), I became acquainted with the word and what it meant. The word was faith.

Have you ever touched the intangible?

Has there ever been an experience in your life that’s forever etched in your memory because of it?

 Blessings Always,