Water

WATER

Hot summer days invite sprinklers, pools, lakesides and ocean beaches. Cool water to play in. Cool water to drink after the play.

Happy squeals from little people as cool water touches warm skin. Splashing, jumping, laughing.

I remember jumping off the edge of the pool, just a little girl ready to fly. I could fly because my dad was in the cool water, his hands raised, ready to catch me. He never missed.

With my own children, bath time was another water time. Little people splashing chubby hands, sending bubbles bubbling. A soft towel, a clean diaper, and clean jammies.

“Water cleanses; purifies; refreshes; sustains.”

This week a fourteen-month-old baby boy, who had been taken from his parents at the border and separated for eighty-five days, was returned filthy and covered in lice.

No water. No bath. No excuses.

Our country did this. Our country missed. Our country doesn’t keep the babies safe. Our country cages babies in filth.

All the little ones are supposed to be reunited with their parents by tomorrow, July 10. But our country’s (b)administration separated families without a plan in place to put them back together again.

Some little ones have been in court. Alone. Sitting in a much-too-big chair with much-too-big headphones on their little ears. So they can hear the translator. They are not safe. Not protected. Defenseless.  

One little one had his bottle and toy ball.  He was all alone. Not safe. Not protected. Defenseless.

Our country’s (b)administration did this. Our country missed. Our country puts toddlers on trial.

So, because there was no plan in place to put families back together again, there will still be little ones unsafe and away from their parents when the deadline passes tomorrow. The days tick on.

I ask, what is a pastor to do? What is a mother with perfectly safe children to do?  

I remember holding my son in front of the font. The baptismal font. I said these words: “Water cleansers; purifies; refreshes; sustains.”

Baptism liturgy. Sacramental water. My son safe in my arms. Safe. He was clean and fed.

“Wesley, for you Jesus Christ came into the world.;

for you he died and for you he conquered death;

all this he did for you, little one,

though you know nothing of it as yet.

We love because God first loved us.”

I touched the water in the font. I made three little water crosses on his tiny forehead.

“I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

This is something a pastor does. It’s a sacrament. It’s holy. It’s God’s promise to every child. Through the sign and symbol of water.

Because every child is made in the image of God.

I’ve put water crosses on more babies than I can count. They always know I’m not their mother. Sometimes they put up with me, sometimes they throw-up on me, and sometimes they cry. I speak the liturgy and I make the water crosses. When I’m finished with this sacrament, I hand them back to their mothers or fathers. Where they feel safe.

If it were possible, I would go to the little ones who have been brought over our border. I know you would too. I wouldn’t go to baptize them. That would be a waste of time, breath, and water. There is something much more urgent going on there.

I would go to unlock cages, to unlock the doors housing the older ones. I would think of my dad’s hands catching me every time I jumped. He caught me, and I knew I could fly. Flying is the opposite of being caged.

WE (are you with me?) would go to the detention centers during these hot summer days with baby bath and shampoo. We would find the water and clean away the filth. We would clothe them with clean diapers and soft jammies. We would go to them with arms ready to hold and comfort. We would go with soft voices to whisper loving words and sing lullabies. We would do this until we could hand each baby to their mother or father. Where they could finally feel safe.

For now, the only water they feel are the tears on their own cheeks. My tears are useless, but still fall.

“Water cleanses, purifies, refreshes and sustains.”

“and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple – truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”  Matthew 10:42