Children, in Times of Flooding
In times of flooding
Children do not fret
Over whether the insurance kicked in on time
Or if the sewer plugs have been inserted properly
Or how many military personnel have been summoned.
Instead, they smile,
Aware of the effects:
“No school tomorrow!” “Can I play in the rain?”
“Look at all the police cars in front of that sandbag truck!”
A growing puddle, to them, is an enticing splashing pool.
Yesterday, a friend,
After offering prayers
For God’s generous mercy to quell the rising river,
Said, “Bet the kids are excited. Hate to spoil their fun!”
I paused, realizing both the truth and freedom of her words.
She continued on,
Sharing a story of
Her father growing up in rural China, and how he
Welcomed the floods, racing with his brothers to the doors,
while waters quickly rose, to dismantle them, turning them into rafts.
On the other hand,
Would be “running around trying to save their rice supply” with
Absolutely no help from her sons, wild with happiness at the gift
Nature had presented them through the swelling, swallowing water.
We can look at this
With a frown on our faces, grumble about “children these days,”
And try to talk them out of their glee through sharing dire predictions
to keep them grounded, coaxing them into a place of sound sensibility.
Or we could
They are children, limited in their comprehension of worldly things
By design. We could let them run in the rain, for a while anyway,
And allow their innocent spirits to take hold of us, wash us with hope.
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