There she was, high up above me on the jungle gym. Her curly blond hair swept back in a careless pony-tale, and her eight-year-old smile completely wiped away and replaced with a much-to-old-for-her-frown.
"What's wrong, Honey?" I asked.
She shrugged.
Undaunted, I persisted, "Wanna talk about it?"
After a moment, she nodded and she scrambled down the bars. We found ourselves on the swing set. I gave her a few good pushes, and then took a seat on the next swing. For what seemed like an eternity, we didn't speak - just pumped our legs up and down, and let the wind carry us. I silently prayed that the wind would carry away her worries as well.
If only it were that simple.
As our swings slowed to a stop she looked at me and sighed, "I just really hope my dad wants to see me today." Her words were barely a whisper.
My heart hurt. I knew a little of her past. Absentee father, single mom, insecurity - the unfortunate story of so many little girls in this world. How could I comfort her? I didn't know where to begin, or what she needed to hear...or if it was even my place to speak about such a delicate subject.
But God is the provider of opportunities.
And this one came in the form of a shiny little penny, half hidden in the dust under my little companion's feet. As she stooped to pick it up I absently asked if it was heads up. It was. Before I knew what I was saying, the words from an old superstition were coming out of my lips - oddly enough, it wasn't my voice I heard; it was the voice of someone who knew what she was saying.
"Find a penny, facing up, and all the day you'll have good luck."
"Maybe," she looked up at me with a glimmer of hope in her eye. "maybe this penny will give me enough luck to see my dad today." And then, as if she realized how vulnerable she had just made herself, she flippantly looked to the sky. "Please God, make this penny be a lucky one!" She said dramatically.
That little glimmer of hope dimmed. It faded. And then it was gone.
She threw the penny on the ground and began swinging again. But I picked it up out of the dust, and stopped her swing. Looking her in the eye, I put the penny back into the palm of her hand, and I closed her small fingers firmly around it.
"Never, ever, loose that hope. Dad's don't always do the right thing. They don't always show us how much they love us. They don't make it to every dance recital, or every Daddy Daughter day at school. But all those things are part of life. What matters most, is that you hang on to hope. Hope in the world, is the thing that keeps it moving. And even if everyone else leaves you feeling lonely, know that I love you." And so does the real Father of our little lives, Dear. I added that part silently.
Her daddy did pick her up that day. And when he spun her around as they left the school, she caught my eye. She smiled and winked. "Lucky me" she mouthed. I smiled.
Friends, how many other little girls are out in our world - in our country - in our schools, and churches - that don't know the love of a father? That have been hurt or abandoned? Abused or mistreated? How many of these little girls have grown up into women, trying to mask their pain by efficiency, or a well put together family?
And what are we doing to show them the love of Christ?
It could be as simple as swinging with someone. As impacting as praying openly for them. But going to the one Father of our own little lives, and asking him to show us the opportunities around us, will make all the difference.
