Kimberly was down the street from where I walk, buying a few groceries, and I wanted to get to see her. So, I ran. It was not a pretty site, all that fat flapping in the breeze. It sounded like my bike did when, as a kid, I clothes-pinned a baseball card in the spokes. Did you hear that sound on Racetrack Road this morning? It was me! I was huffing and puffing the whole two yards I ran…but I made it there just as she finished grocery shopping. She was fighting strep throat and I wanted to give her a quick, little hug.
We never loose that instinct to nurture, to protect, to kiss away the boo-boo. Band-aids have lost their healing powers by the time our little ones reach those teen years. They no longer crave a kiss on their bleeding knee or want to hear me say one more time, “I tell you what I think…”
Like a mama bird attacks a predatory bird twice its size, I still want to attack everything and everyone that tries to harm my family. Larger now, because it includes grandchildren and Jason and Jenny. Kimberly married a Jason so we have two Jasons in the family. I’m sure you can image how confusing a conversation at my house can be.
I’m not necessarily talking about the people that attack them. I’m talking about any of the numerous strategies that Satan would bring to rob my children of their spiritual vitality and the Kingdom impact God has planned for them. These predators sit waiting like the vultures I see sitting on a garbage dumpster behind a restaurant along my walking route.
