a prayer

Today, day 29 of our 40 days, Tammy and I are looking for new prayers or revisiting old prayers. Sunday at our church was "Preschool Sunday" (there is a preschool associated with the church). At first I wasn't too thrilled with this, since at my house every day is "preschool day" and I thought it might be some trite little "chicken soup for the preschooler's soul" or something. Well, actually it turned out to be a pretty nice service. One of the teachers read this poem, which toward the end brought tears to my eyes. I think being an adoptive mom makes me more aware, and more sad over, all the kids who are growing up without love. Or else I am just sentimental and the references to kids dragging blankets (Sam) and who want to be carried (Alex) reminded me of my own kids and how glad I am to be their mom.

Anyway, here is the prayer, or maybe it's a poem: (from http://www.appleseeds.org/childpry.htm)

We Pray for Children . . .
Ina J. Hughs


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We pray for children
who sneak popsicles before supper,
who erase holes in math workbooks,
who can never find their shoes.

And we pray, for those
who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,
who never "counted potatoes,"
who are born in places where we wouldn't be caught dead,
who never go to the circus,
who live in an X-rated world.

We pray for children
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.

And we pray for those
who never get dessert,
who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who can't find any bread to steal,
who don't have any rooms to clean up,
whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,
whose monsters are real.

We pray for children
who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
who like ghost stories,
who shove dirty clothes under the bed,
and never rinse out the tub,
who get visits from the tooth fairy,
who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at
and whose smiles can make us cry.

And we pray for those
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who have never seen a dentist,
who aren't spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who live and move, but have no being.

We pray for children
who want to be carried and for those who must,
for those we never give up on
and for those who don't get a second chance.
For those we smother . . .
and for those who will grab the hand of anybody
kind enough to offer it.

Please offer your hands to them so that no child is left behind
because we did not act.