“I have bumps…I can lift a car”

That’s what the little boy holding his mama’s hand said to me as we were standing in line to eat dinner at the UGM Crisis Shelter for Women and Children.

He flexed his nonexistent muscles with a proud look on his face. Then his even littler brother who was holding his big brother’s hand said: “I can lift all the people”

It was a funny moment of connection, but the reality of what was happening didn’t escape me as I looked at this young mother surrounded by her three boys. 

I have no idea where “Dad” was, but these two little musclemen telling me they were strong while clinging to their mommy’s hands let me know what was probably deep in the heart of this family’s story. 

Little boys having to be strong is a tragic reality that plagues our broken and shattered home fronts.

But it’s not just boys, last night one young girl casually told one of my leaders that they were there because daddy hits mommy. It was said in a manner that was way too normal but for too many children…it is their normal.

To be a big man in a crisis shelter is an unnerving thing. I am acutely aware that for many in the room I am a reminder of hell and horror.

To sit at a table next to a woman who doesn’t know me or is possibly there to get away from some man is a profoundly challenging reality to try to navigate. I am aware and do my very best to be present in a way that’s gentle, humble and loving but cautious. It’s common to be ignored.

But I persist.

I do so because of many reasons but one of the biggest is I see the look in children’s faces when I come into the room, it’s the look of longing. Even after all the chaos, drama and trauma these little ones have experienced, they still reach out for something within them that they need: love from a father.

“Sit by me” is a request that captures the great need of a generation’s soul in this moment.

To have a young man wave at me as he leads his little brothers up to a shelter room is an act of gratitude that reflects a heart that’s starving for kindness.

To almost stumble over a small little girl with big eyes and a dollie in her hand that’s following me around is a sign of the deep need for attention.

To have an little spitfire African American girl come up to me and place both her hands on my beard and rub my face is a gift born out of small sense of safety.

When a young girl looks at LeeElla and I there together and declares: “You are her husband!” reflects a recognition of a reality that’s painfully absent from her own life.

As I watched LeeElla try to wipe off the Ravioli sauce from her shirt as she began to lead worship in the chapel service, I realized something. That sauce slopped upon her face and clothes by a rambunctious lap nestling squiggler was actually the anointing oil of the Holy Ghost. A symbol of the signs and wonders being displayed where love is seeking to serve the orphan and widows among us.

Watching a little pistol of a girl walking up the stairs holding LeeElla’s hands to show her the room where she stays is the kind of gentle miracle that sustain my battle-weary heart. 

These are the victories of love and these fleeting moments remind me love is stronger than death.

I just wish I was strong enough to “lift all the people” out of their desperate situations but at least last night a few kids met a man and a woman that loved them."

Pastor Eric.