I think it's important to hear the echoes of generations long past sounding forth with the knowledge that generations yet to come will be grounded in Jesus' teachings, as displayed so sincerely and spontaneously by members of a 3rd grade class. . .
On a Monday, my 9-year-old grandson, Josh, fell from a swing in the backyard. His strong arms and legs having pumped him up high, swung him upward and soaring, as high as the sky! And the next thing he knew he was down, landing hard on those arms and those legs. Having lost his grip on the chains of the swing, his body lay curled like a lump, on the ground.
The rest of the week seemed oh-so-long! A week of more ups and downs: dealing with pain in his two broken arms, with doctors and x-rays and splints before casts,
and restless days and sleepless nights, but also with treats and books and balloons, a sister and two brothers at his beck and call, and his two blue casts filled with many scrawled names.
And then reality really sank in, with the depth of what it all meant: the assistance needed with everyday living, the limitations of how hours could be spent. The number of things he couldn’t do seemed to grow and his sweet cherub face clouded over.
But now it was Monday again! He was going to school the whole day! Then came last recess and his energy drained. He could no longer even stand on the sidelines, so he simply laid himself down on the ground. After school he was telling his mom. “Did anybody see you?” she asked. “Oh, sure,” he said, “my friends did.” “Did anyone do anything?” she asked. “Yes,” he said quietly. “My friends ran over and laid on the ground right next to me.” (John 15:13)
And a tear trickled down his mom's cheek.