It started out as a simple walk at the mall. I needed more steps. My goal of 11,000 daily steps had not been met, it was dark outside, the mall was a logical place to move the legs and feet and watch the pedometer on my Garmim Vivofit.
I really don’t like the top floor of the mall, especially the section near Target where the restaurants are located. Crowds. Lines. Kiosks. It’s a disaster of some type waiting to happen. Usually I can avoid that section; but for some undeclared reason, my walking partner is attracted to Target like metal is to a magnet. I try to accommodate his “Target fix” on occasion. This was one of those nights.
The crowds were there. I walked past Cold Stone Creamery. By the way, the sweet smell of that place is sickening. I find it far too similar to the smell of melting freezer burned ice cream. Past the line for TGIF. The corner store is still vacant. The pretzel kiosk has no samples. The candy kiosk never calls my name. Chipotle – well, is it safe to eat there? A very long line at the comedy club.
And then, a tall man, over six feet, caught my attention as he walked across the aisle in front of me. Whoa! Anger rose up in me faster than a cheetah can reach his top speed of 70 mph in four seconds. I was caught off guard. I was furious. I was angry! Why? What had I just seen or experienced?
That tall man, with anger written across his face, was pulling the ear of a young boy, perhaps his son, of approximate 6 years. The boy was much shorter than this man. The boy was scurrying on his tip toes. The man was parading this boy in front of all of us. The crowd said nothing. The boy said nothing. The waiting, pregnant lady, perhaps the boy’s mother, said nothing. The younger sibling was oblivious to what was happening.
It just came. From deep inside of me. It could not, nor should not, remain only in my thoughts. “EAR, NOT THE EAR!” The man turned and looked at me as I raised my voice. Physically painful. Emotionally painful. Who sticks up for this child? Does the man, perhaps the father, not know of the potential ear damage? If this happens in public, what happens behind closed doors? Why is the woman afraid to speak up? Why is this young child afraid to cry or to say, “stop”?
Oh dear Lord, help me NOW. Do I approach the man in front of the child so that the child knows that someone cares? Do I quietly speak to the father? Do I mind my own business so that there is no backlash for the child? Oh dear Lord, help me now. I’m angry. I. Am. Angry. Don’t mess with children. DON’T MESS WITH CHILDREN! My anger came so fast and intense that I knew it would not be a pretty scene.
Lord, protect your child, your baby boy. Protect the other children – the one standing by his mother, the one in the stroller, and the one yet to be born. Protect the mother. And Lord, protect that man. Protect him from his own anger, from his inner fears, from himself. Wash over this family with your Holy Spirit, with your love, with your kindness. Protect them, Father, protect all of them.
