Suffer the little children...
One morning a few weeks ago, as I got ready to cross one of the busier Sarajevan intersections, I saw out of the corner of my eye three Roma gypsy boys waiting to cross from the other side. The oldest of the three boys couldn't have been more than eight years old, the youngest, no older than four. No adult was to be seen watching out for them, and it was such a strange sight. In America where child safety is such a priority, you'd never see a four year old anywhere near such an intersection.
When the coast became clear I watched the kids begin to trot across the street. All of the sudden a taxicab shot around the corner, turning right into the path of the kids. Fortunately the kids all made it onto the median before the cab came ripping by. But the littlest boy's foot caught on the pavement as he tried to jump up onto the median, and he went tumbling violently forward, landing hard on his hands and knees. For a moment he lay stunned where he'd fallen, then he began to cry out of shock and pain.
The taxicab screeched to a halt, the driver mashed his gear into reverse and zigzagged backward, slamming to a stop next to the boy. By this time huge tears had started gushing down the boy's dirty face, his eyes searching for help. It seemed that the driver intended to rush out of the car to help the boy, but instead he rolled down his window and began to scream at the boy in anger. The boy began to cry harder and louder, struggling to his feet in fear and surprise, blood trickling from his skinned knees and hands. The driver, still cursing and yelling, his fist pounding emphatically on the side of the cab door, finally sped away as traffic began piling up behind him.
The boy continued to wail as he tried through a blur of tears to locate the two older boys, but they'd gone on without him and were now completely out of sight. His arms reached out, but no one was there--no one seemed concerned about a dirty little Roma who probably got what he deserved anyway for begging. I wanted to run to him and scoop him up, but there was no way I could safely get past the sea of cars whizzing by in both directions. I looked around once more to see if there was anyone to whom the boy belonged, and seeing no one, I turned to look back, but the boy was gone. He probably darted in between moving cars and ran off in search of the others.
Witnessing this scene caused me to remember all the love and attention I was given by my parents. My heart broke for this child, who perhaps won't ever understand that feeling. I'm reminded of Mark 10:14, "...[Jesus said] Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God." It's such a comfort that this boy can find love and comfort in Jesus, even if no one else in the world cares if he lives or dies.
When the coast became clear I watched the kids begin to trot across the street. All of the sudden a taxicab shot around the corner, turning right into the path of the kids. Fortunately the kids all made it onto the median before the cab came ripping by. But the littlest boy's foot caught on the pavement as he tried to jump up onto the median, and he went tumbling violently forward, landing hard on his hands and knees. For a moment he lay stunned where he'd fallen, then he began to cry out of shock and pain.
The taxicab screeched to a halt, the driver mashed his gear into reverse and zigzagged backward, slamming to a stop next to the boy. By this time huge tears had started gushing down the boy's dirty face, his eyes searching for help. It seemed that the driver intended to rush out of the car to help the boy, but instead he rolled down his window and began to scream at the boy in anger. The boy began to cry harder and louder, struggling to his feet in fear and surprise, blood trickling from his skinned knees and hands. The driver, still cursing and yelling, his fist pounding emphatically on the side of the cab door, finally sped away as traffic began piling up behind him.
The boy continued to wail as he tried through a blur of tears to locate the two older boys, but they'd gone on without him and were now completely out of sight. His arms reached out, but no one was there--no one seemed concerned about a dirty little Roma who probably got what he deserved anyway for begging. I wanted to run to him and scoop him up, but there was no way I could safely get past the sea of cars whizzing by in both directions. I looked around once more to see if there was anyone to whom the boy belonged, and seeing no one, I turned to look back, but the boy was gone. He probably darted in between moving cars and ran off in search of the others.
Witnessing this scene caused me to remember all the love and attention I was given by my parents. My heart broke for this child, who perhaps won't ever understand that feeling. I'm reminded of Mark 10:14, "...[Jesus said] Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God." It's such a comfort that this boy can find love and comfort in Jesus, even if no one else in the world cares if he lives or dies.
2 Comments:
Good grief Rebekah, that is a tear jerking story. I want to overthrow myself now. I would have run after the cab driver with a Samurai sword in righteous anger.
O Bekah! I wish we could adopt him.
~K.
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