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Uncertain days demand we focus on children's needs

As we looked over what was coming and what was going, Kathy casually said that my big green recliner was not going to make the move, and then she walked into the kitchen.

What?! What did she say? She must have misspoken. Maybe she was kidding? She can be a jokester –– she is the funny one in the family –– haha!

As I stood there, I realized no one was laughing. There was only silence. She wasn’t kidding. My stare locked on the chair. We had been together almost as long as Kathy and I had been together. I loved my green recliner.

The recliner was not manufactured by a prestigious company.

It wasn’t the most expensive or stylish chair available. The blah green textured fabric was generic. It looked very common, but that’s not the point.

My recliner was my throne. It was where I resided in the evenings and on Sunday afternoons. My television remote was my royal scepter –– I was the master of my domain. My feet out, body reclined, I glided from sports channel to sports channel.

It was my reward for a day’s conquest or my week spent slaying the dragons of life.

There were rips on the worn edges of the chair that I made “almost new” with the application of silver duck tape. Super Bowl party snack stains and faded traces of dried mustard from my favorite ham and swiss hoagie were telltale signs of good times and memories shared.

We had been together so long that my recliner had the perfect indentions –– each one formed by my body, fitting me perfectly.

It was the ideal chair to watch a NASCAR race from Talladega Superspeedway. I could sit on the edge of the seat for the start, have my eyelids grow heavy about mile 200 and settle back, catch forty winks, and, well rested, be awake for the big crash near the end.

But that’s not the point.

My recliner was a very special place where I met my children, dispensed doses of special attention, and consoled the weak of heart.

My recliner was where I took my children into my arms, hugged them and rocked them until their fears faded, tummy aches subsided, and they were bolstered to rise up and tackle their worlds again. My green recliner was the place where I whispered their names, interceding for them, to a loving Heavenly Father.

And that’s the point.

As parents –– and adults –– we must have a place where we meet the children in our lives one-on-one. In these troubling days, there must be a time when all our attention is focused on their needs. Our attention must be turned to calming their fears.

A big green recliner is likened to God’s throne where He calls us all to approach as little children –– free to express our fears and concerns. We can be confident that welcoming arms will lift us from all that is weighing us down, providing comfort during these times of our uncertainty.


Article Written by Jim Edminson, Charity & Children Editor

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