It’s not usually the big things that knock you on your keister, is it?

You brace for the big stuff. You hunker down or grab hold when a major turbulence appears on your radar. It’s not always pretty, but you lock down and you survive.

Or, at least, you think you have.

Working with families facing hardship over twenty plus years, I’ve encountered some terrible stories of abuse and neglect. In this field, you prepare for those. You steel yourself.

You find a place to put those types of horror stories and you move on, because you’re one of those helpers Mr. Rogers mentions that kids should try to spot in a crisis. It’s easier to spot you if you’re standing up, not huddled in a corner crying.

One little boy, though, bobs in the dark ocean of my memories and resurfaces at odd times. It’s been many, many years. He’s grown by now, but in my mind, he’ll always be a little boy. One little boy and his blankie.

He was a bubbly toddler in a troubled home. I’ll spare you the details. Over multiple weeks of visits, I loved that when I arrived, he’d climb beside me onto the couch with his blanket.

This blanket had a “sweet spot.” One corner that he loved to rub between his thumb and his index finger. After several visits, he decided I needed a sweet spot of my own. He dubbed me “my safety lady,” because whenever I arrived, the adults and I would discuss what was safe and what wasn’t.

So, little guy designated another corner just for me. There we’d sit as I discussed scary grown up things with the adults in his world, him rubbing one corner and me rubbing mine.

I didn’t realize how that tiny square of flannel was keeping me calm, too. Until the day, it was gone.

The family called me for an emergency meeting. Life was unraveling. The adults weren’t holding things together. I arrived before the other helping grown-ups, and little guy climbed up beside me on the couch, but he didn’t sit.

Instead, kneeling, he cupped his hands over my ear and whispered, “No one’s being safe, safety lady. Help me.”

I asked him to get his blankie while I talked with the grownups. He shook his head letting huge tears fell down his chubby cheeks.

He pointed at one grownup. “She cut it to pieces.”

I looked at the offending adult who crossed her arms and stared at little guy in defiance. “That’s right, go ahead and tell her. I cut his stupid blanket into little pieces and made him watch while I burned it.”

Why this horrified beyond the multitude of other horrific details that emerged that day is beyond me, but it did. “Why would you do that? He’s just a little guy, and it was just a blankie.”

“He’s old enough to learn not to be a baby and cry just because people are fighting. He’s old enough to learn that rubbing a stupid blanket doesn’t make people stick around and love you. He’s old enough to learn not to hold onto anything because at some point someone rips it away and you’re left with nothing. I did him a favor burning that stupid thing. I taught him a life lesson, that’s what I did.”

As worse details of life for this little guy emerged, more helpers arrived and he was, indeed, whisked away to safety. As I called to report in to my boss, I managed to state the numerous terrible details, but when she asked, “Is there anything else?”, I lost my voice.

“Hey, are you okay?”

I sniffled into my cell phone, feeling like a fool as I sat in my car on a sunny day with tears flowing. “They cut up his stupid blankie. I mean, he’s safe now, but seriously, they cut up a little kid’s blankie and made him watch the pieces burn.”

God designed us with opposable thumbs, because He knew we’d need to hold onto things sometimes. It’s not wrong to need something to hold onto. It’s part of being human. God rejects our sin, not our humanity.

We are bombarded, in these times, with all manner of warfare, deceptive arguments, and pressure to abandon the truth. Be aware that it’s not always the big assault that knocks you on your keister. It’s often just the unkind remark, the casual cruelty, or the betraying kiss that sends you sprawling over the enemy’s trip wire.

As you fall, he tries to wrest Truth from your hands, but it’s impervious to His weapons. Even when we lose our grip, Jesus never loses His on us. No one will ever snatch us from His hands.

So, hold on, loved ones. He’s coming. Spend more time in the Truth than you spend reading or hearing the lies. Remind yourself and others of the truth you know. Live truth in ways great and small.

Hold on. Hold on to the truth and speak it, because little empty-handed boys grow into hurting men, searching for something true they can hold. It is good if they find they can hold onto Jesus and He will hold onto them.

We know the only truth no one will ever burn. Remember when the world is on fire–we are fireproof. Adapted from Lori Roeleveld Blog

Prayer: Father in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come. This world is on the verge. I feel we are rolling down a hill and we cannot get in front of the giant snowball that has accumulated hatred and violence and mean-spiritedness and so many other horrible things. Thank You for letting me know that You have sent Your Comforter to hold my hand, to guide me, and to strengthen me as I walk in Your truth throughout the day. My way, my truth, and my life are in Jesus – the Savior, the Christ, the Messiah and He lets me know He has not left me, nor forsaken me. It is in His name I pray and give thanks, Amen.