When I was a young girl growing up in a city a few miles north of Washington, DC, my siblings and I would spend hours at the playground of a nearby park. This playground was located across the street from our home, behind the neighbors’ houses, through some woods and out of sight of my Mom. We soared on swings that had the very longest chains; the heights we reached were impressive. In the fall, we would pile up mountains of pungent smelling leaves and merrily sail off our swings through the crisp air to land with a satisfying “whump” in the mound of crunchy, colorful leaves. The merry go ‘round, like the rest of the play equipment, was made of hard metal, and if you fell off from the G-force of a particularly strong and determined spinner, you hit bare dirt and little rocks, and you also might be subjected to being trampled on by the spinner who could not stop in time to avoid the kid who literally bit the dust. I couldn’t take being spun around with such vigor. It made me sick. So my fun was lying on my belly, opposite of some other kid lying on his belly - our heads stuck out over slowly spinning dirt (which was right under our noses), our arm stretched out to grab the allusive stick as we played “pick up sticks”.
The sliding board was at least twice my height, (And I was, from forever, a tall person.). The stairs rose straight up, with barely a slope. We gripped the railings with our determined little hands as we made our anticipatory ascent, watching for the tall trunks of the park trees to come back into view as we reached the top. At the top there was a platform, bordered by a simple pole railing with an open space big enough for an elephant to fall through. The platform was just big enough for the eager child to sit on as he valiantly set his face toward the gray metal of the very steep slope that would send him speeding down to the dirt below. And when the slide had been freshly waxed with Mom’s waxed paper from the kitchen, you knew it would be one wild ride. Lined up behind you on the stairs were other eager adventurers.
The park had some fantastic, tall pine trees. Some of us climbed to their very tops. Sap dripping from the bark and branches stuck to our hands, clothing, and hair and gave us a very natural and spicy aroma. It was thrilling to sway in the tops of these softwood trees, and at the same time know that the thickly needled branches hid you from view. One time, an upper branch gave way as I straddled it, and I came riding down the tree backwards on my green steed. Each needle-laden branch smoothly broke my fairly speedy descent, and I landed with a soft thud. It was thrilling.
My siblings and I spent many fun days in that park as well as at the park down the street from our house. The attraction of the park down the street was the creek that ran through it. This creek gave us adventures that a regular park could not. Like the time we found an old cement mixture trough that someone had dumped on the bank of the creek. We didn’t see a trough. We saw a boat. And soon we were sailing in it down the creek, dumping once because we tried to grab some roots to pull ourselves to shore and proceeded to tip over. This creek had a path that followed it for miles. My sister and I used to bike down our busy road to the park and then over the creek bridge to the path where we pedaled to a store a couple of miles away to buy grape pop and then bike back home with our sweet treasure.
No cell phones, no fears of being in danger. We would be gone for hours. Our parents had instilled safety-wisdom into us without really saying much. We weren’t told to fear things. We knew what risks were not acceptable. It was how we lived. We lived without hearing a lot about the “responsibility to be afraid”. Ladders did not have warnings on them that told you you would fall off if you stepped on the very top. Car sun visors did not remind you of the dangers of rolling over, or of exploding airbags. (And you probably would guess that we did not have airbags “way back then”.) There were no such things as outlet covers; and medicine bottles did not have safety caps and were kept out of reach; but if they were in reach, we knew not to get into them. We played with non-orange cap guns. Toy cars and trucks and play construction sets were made out of, yes, sharp metal. If you didn’t have a second family car, which we did not, you walked the one or two miles to school. In our case, our journey to grade school led us up one very busy road (no sidewalk), through a park, through a neighborhood, across a fairly busy intersection (A crossing guard from the school was posted there. Her name was Mrs. Seibert, so we called the intersection “Seibert’s Corner”), through another neighborhood then onto a sidewalk of another busy street where we continued our trek until finally reaching our school. My eldest sister was put in charge of the rest of the four of us as we trudged in all kinds of weather to school, carrying our satchels and lunch boxes. As we got older, it was not unusual for us, depending on our schedule, to walk separately to and from school.
Today, as we know, we think twice about letting our children go. There are often good reasons for this hesitation, and yet it is imperative that our children become wise as serpents and gentle as doves in this world that shouts out Fear! whether it is warranted or not. A couple of years ago, a second or third grade student told me that she would die if she touched cleanser. It broke my heart to know that her little world involved dealing with such heavy issues as life and death because of fear of cleansers.
Today, the big fears that are dominating the world are COVID, fear of loss of law and order, and fear of saying and believing things that are not socially acceptable. And when I say “dominating”, I think a better word would be “gripping”. Yet “dominating” is not a totally inaccurate word as it indicates subjection. We have been told that we must be subjected to fear, and we are tempted to be subjected by fear. This fear is not restricted to adults who can process it a little better, but also to children, who truly are not able to fully process it. For instance, I heard a government COVID radio ad (our tax dollars at work) directed to our children. The ad said that the child could be a superhero if he wore a mask because he could then protect someone from dying. Process that with me as a little child would, with his child-like logic: “If I wear a mask, I will save someone’s life. Ok, that sound good. And if I don’t wear a mask, I could kill someone.” Now, that is a heavy burden to lay on a child. What if the child forgets to wear a mask, and someone he was around dies from COVID or a dies from a condition complicated by COVID? Is that child going to be able to process what the true and complete realities are in this situation? No.
How to react/respond to the fears of the health concerns of today is and should be an individual choice. To wear a mask or not to wear a mask, etc. is a choice that no one can or should make for another person or for another family. However, if our decision regarding any of the current issues of this world is guided by fear, it would behoove us to examine fear.
What is fear? And why are we afraid? Fear can be good. Fear can be bad. Should fear ever be our guide? God gave us the “fight or flight” reaction that is invaluable for certain situations, usually involving an immediate threat to our life. But we are not meant to live in a steady state of “fight or flight”. I love the book by Ben Carson called “Take the Risk”. In his book, Dr. Carson evaluates risk-taking by asking these types of questions: What is the worst thing that can happen if I do this? What is the worst thing that can happen if I don’t do this? What is the best thing that could happen if I do this? What is the best thing that could happen if I don’t do this? Obviously to answer these questions, a person needs accurate data. When one analyzes life’s decisions in this way, fear is not a main consideration.
The Scriptures talk about fear. Ecclesiastes 5:9 says: “For in the multitude of dreams and many words there are also divers vanities: but fear thou God.” Psalm 111:10 says: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: a good understanding have all they that do his commandments: his praise endureth for ever.” Luke 12:42 says: “Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Matthew 10:8 says: “And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.”
As always, God give us the right perspective on guiding the emotions He has given us, including the emotion of fear. We are to fear God, as He is holy and high and lifted up and we are simply base sinners. But this fear of God leads us to seek his Mercy and Grace. And He tells us He will never turn away those who seek Him and His salvation. This type of fear leads to peace. When we have natural fears about our life or about the world, we are told by our loving Heavenly Father to not fear, that He is our shield and protector, and that He will never leave us nor forsake. Praise God that we belong to Him, and that He is our great protector in life and in death.
Believer, life is very different and difficult right now in our country and around the world. When our hearts start to beat hard with fear, fear of what might happen to us or to our children, remember that God says to cast all our cares upon Him because He cares for us. Remember to be still before Him, to be in awe of Who He is and Who He promises to be for you. Let not man or the world tell you what to fear. Fear God and put your confidence in Him.
In the Lord put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain? Psalm 111:1
The Lord bless you all,
Mrs. Mary Brown, Principal