Q is for Quiet

The cul-de-sac is alive, teeming with children young and old.  A little five year old girl is on her bike riding around with her friends.  Laughing, giggling, her blonde hair tied up in pigtails, she tears up and down the street without a care in the world.  It’s summertime.  The days are lazy, long and endless.  Neighbors sit on porches, talking about sports and the weather, while watching the children.  Some are on roller blades, jumping off curbs, while others choose skateboards, attempting to ‘hang ten.’  All of them are smiling, yelling, completely fixated on their own made- up games.  “Hey, if I get to this corner on my bike before you get to the green house on your skate board – then I win.” One young innocent voice rises above the rest.

“No way!  Not fair!” another calls back.  “I should only have to go to the blue house to win.”

“I’ll beat you all!” shouts the blonde haired girl with pigtails as she races past everyone.

Delicious smells of barbecue waft to the heavens.  The sights, the sounds, and the smells of summer are intoxicating – until the sound of a scream breaks through the air.

All the children stop and turn in horror towards the sounds of the little girl’s wails. The adults stand to assess the damage.  The little girl with the blonde pigtails slowly gets to her feet, untangling herself from the twisted bike.  Screaming and crying she leaves the bike in the middle of the street and half limps, half runs to the only place of safety she knows – her daddy’s arms.  At the sound of her crash, he was already on his feet.  Before her screams left her mouth he was moving to her side.  Bloody, dirty, grimy and with tears streaming down her checks, she throws herself at him.  He lifts her in his arms and holds her tight.  It matters not that he is wearing a white shirt.  She buries her face into his chest and is lost in the embrace of her daddy.  “Sh, sh,” He comforts her.  “Sh, sh, it’s all going to be OK.”  He sits down on the sidewalk with her and moves gently side to side, rocking her, swaying her until her screams become sobs, her sobs become tears, and her tears become quieted. 

He stands up.  Her little legs and arms still wrapped tightly around his body – so tight that his arms around her aren’t even necessary, but he puts them there all the same.  He walks her inside to clean her wounds.  “Daddy’s here,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.  And you are going to be just fine.”

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.
~Zep. 3:17