While walking out of the Mathare Valley slum, a group of kids encircled me. I got down on my knees, held their hands, and sang Jesus Loves Me to them. I swapped out "me" for "you," however, in order to deliver a more personal truth to them. Smiles abounded.
Afterwards, one little boy took my arm and started to swing on it as we strolled onwards. I grabbed his wrist and began to propel him into the air. Long after the other kids dissipated, I kept walking with this little boy and sent him skyward after every few steps.
The boy was elated and giggling loudly.
(Image: Swinging a boy in Mathare Valley)
We started down one of the alleyways in the shantytown and, as I swung him safely over the streams of raw sewage, I held firmly and imagined wistfully swinging him right out of the slum.
I’m home now. My wife, Lisa, asked me if I would like to pick up my son, Caleb, from his class. Caleb, upon seeing me there, ran to me with a wide grin on his face. As soon as we exited his classroom, he asked me to swing him by the arm. I was puzzled. He had never asked that of me before. Lisa would later tell me that Caleb had seen one of the other fathers swinging his son earlier that morning.
Caleb was elated and giggling loudly.
(Image: Swinging Caleb at home)
Two different worlds. Two boys desiring love and attention.
God, in His infinite wisdom, chose to bless me by connecting these two analogous events; these two parallel memories. I’m amazed at how He threads things together; how He shows Himself in all things.