Father, protect Your little girls.

I was sitting in my car surrounded by beats, melody and words that passed through me without landing. I cursed the heat, though the cool air blew from the vent. I cursed the traffic caused by the men laboring to pave the road. My fatigue and anxiety were all too absorbing, until a few extra moments cast me a glance inside another’s life.

My eyes were drawn to her and I panicked. She was just little girl no older than 5, standing alone at the crosswalk of a busy street.  She stood next to grocery bags, all messy brown bob and messier face. Her eyes had a glow that only children have, yet were paired with attentiveness and obedience beyond her years.  Who would leave this little one by herself? My eyes traced herserious gaze across the street to see another pile of bags, and a grandfatherly looking man, making his way towards her. He seemed impervious to the cars around him as he walked purposefully through them.  He gathered several bags, and left her alone again. I was stricken with worry.   All along my heart raced with fear- what if she stepped out into the street? What if someone grabbed her?  How would she hurt if someone took the bags, she guarded at her side?

Grandpa at last made a final trek across the street with more bags and the little girl following closely behind him. Oh God I worried. The light changed. Would the cars wait?

Traffic inched along slowly, and little girl and grandpa began to repeat this process along the next stretch of road. Him loading up his elderly arms, and her dutifully holding post until he returned.

When he strained to pick up the last of their pile, little one picked up two bags, walking just a few steps behind. It seemed just heavy enough to weigh her, yet not too much to steal the bit of little girl sparkle in her step. This made my heart smile gratefully, though my eyes glossed, threatening a tear. Why?

Why such complex emotion over this short interlude?

I watched them in the side mirror as long as I could, straining to see her safe.

Was this a painful task they shared? Or was it a time of life lessons and bonding that they shared? It must have been inconvenient at best.  I wondered-Should I have helped them? Would they have wanted my help?

So many questions, doubts and fears.

Why does this make my heart ache? What drew my attention?

Do I feel sorry for their struggle? Do I feel guilty for my insignificant complaints?

Were my prayers for her safety and overwhelming joy unwarranted or not enough?

Hours ago and it’s still on my mind. Funny how little things can affect me so much.