THOUGHTS

What Shall We Give the Children?

In the long twilight of the

Hot Indian Sun, the faces of the children grow luminous.

Ebony faces, arabesqued with a

Shinning smiles, making a mud cake, or drowsing in the

sandbox, their eyes large, they look and listen,

as if they glimpsed the peripheries of miracle or heard a

soundless music in the air.  From the innocent kingdom of

implicit belief to that uncomfortable arena where

the implacable mind battles the intractable heart, the

faces of the children at Rising Star are lighted

with visions of things to come.

What shall we give the children?

It seems certain that they will travel roads

we never thought of, navigate strange seas, cross

unimagined boundaries, and glimpse horizons beyond our

power to visualize.  What can we give them to take

Along?  For the wild shores of Beyond, no toy or

bauble will do.  It must be something more, constructed

Of stouter fabric discovered among the

Cluttered aisles and tinseled bargain counters of experience

winnowed from what little we have learned.

It must be devised out of responsibility

and profound caring-a homemade present of selfless love.

Everything changes but the landscape of the heart.

What shall we give the children?

Attention, for one day it will be too late.

A sense of value, the inalienable place of the individual

in the scheme of things, with all

that accrues to the individual-self-reliance,

courage, conviction, self-respect, and respect for others.

A sense of humor.  Laughter leavens life.

The meaning of discipline.  If we falter at discipline,

life will do it for us.

The will to work.  Satisfying work is the lasting joy.

The talent for sharing, for it is not so much

what we give as what we share.

The love of justice.  Justice is the bulwark against violence and

oppression and the repository of human dignity.

The passion for truth, founded on precept and example.

Truth is the beginning of every good thing.

The power of faith, engendered in mutual trust.  Life without

faith is a dismal dead-end street.

The beacon of hope, which lights all darkness.

The knowledge of being loved beyond demand or reciprocity,

praise or blame, for those so loved are never lost.

What shall we give the children?

The open sky, the brown earth

, the palm tree, the golden

sand, the blue water, the stars in their courses,

and the awareness of these.  Birdsong, butterflies, clouds, and

rainbows.  Sunlight, moonlight, firelight.

A large hand reaching down for a small hand, impromptu

praise, an unexpected kiss, a straight answer.

The glisten of enthusiasm and a sense of wonder.  Long days

to be merry in and nights without fear.

The memory of a good home.

-Author unknown revisions made by Katie Winder