Kids are almost as numerous as mosquitoes at Family Camp this year. I’m exaggerating, of course, but with three toddlers under three years of age trying to keep up with two active seven-year-olds, the constant darting about rivals the insects.
But last night, one seven-year-old created his own peace and quiet in the midst of the crowd. I wasn’t aware of his clever strategy until one of the more observant adults among us nodded to the tall grass beyond the pavilion and asked, “What’s going on down there?”
We watched the grass sway. The movement was more than what the little camp dogs could generate. “One of the neighbor’s dogs?” someone else suggested. A patch of blue cloth nixed the suggestion.
A flash of recognition, and the observant adult said, “It’s Lewis. He’s hiding in the grass.” We grinned and watched as a round, blond head peeked out, then ducked back before the toddlers saw him. For a good long while he lay there. When the peace and quiet he had manufactured turned to boredom, he slowly and stealthily crept through the grass and joined the younger crowd. Soon he was darting about again, eyes twinkling, while pint-sized hero worshippers followed hard after him.
Laughter and squeals filled the air.
Tears filled my eyes.
A prayer filled my heart.
God, may Your peace hiding in the grass of Family Camp surround our children wherever life takes them, wherever you lead them. May they always follow hard after You. Amen.
