Because we have forgotten our ancestors, our children no longer give us honor. Because we have lost the path our ancestors cleared kneeling in perilous undergrowth, our children cannot find their way.
— Maya Angelou
It's black history month again, and a segment in our church service is dedicated to acknowledging our contributions. I smiled recently as I sat back and watched youth in the church portray successful entrepreneurs. They demonstrated the importance of a great product and the value of providing excellent customer service.
Skits like this might seem insignificant, however, they are important reminders. Over time, we lose sight of what's really important. We lose sight of our history. We lose sight of our future. And at times, we even lose sight of the present.
While the impact isn't always immediately clear, eventually the entire community feels the loss. A story comes to mind that illustrates that point. It focuses on the impact on families of not protecting children.
The setting is long before recorded history in a remote village. People lived in huts, and mothers and fathers were aided in the caring of children by an extended family that included everyone in the village. Every adult was responsible for the welfare of the village's children. When children did things that were wrong, the closest adult disciplined them. When they did things that were good, the entire village celebrated.
The adults had developed a habit of gathering around the fire every night, forming two circles, one inside of the other. The circle closest to the fire provided a safe zone for the children — far away from wild animals and closest to the life-sustaining warmth of the fire. In the outer circle sat the adults.
Every night, without exception, the circle time would end the same way. The adults would surround the children to sing songs, dance and tell stories. They did this while holding tightly to one another's hands.
Then slowly over time, the adults stopped participating in circle time. Why waste time singing and dancing when there is work to be done? some thought.
Others, even those with children, began to question the need to come together. No children had ever been attacked in the village by the wild animals that made their home in the plains around the village.
Circle time was so ingrained in the habits of the community that the elders even forgot why the villagers had begun to gather in their circles. So, they stopped it. No adults bothered to come to the circle.
And that's the night the lions came. The children, who never thought to question the need for the circle, still gathered around the fire. Because they had always been safe, they assumed the wild animals were their friends. That was a mistake.
And the adults of the village, who themselves had forgotten how dangerous the animals could be, didn't think to come together to protect themselves. Instead, each family gathered in their individual huts at night around smaller fires. As their fear grew, the people forgot they used to live in peace, sing songs, dance and tell stories around the campfire.
There were no children to make them laugh. And each night the animals came back. Hut by hut the lions and hyenas destroyed what remained of the village.
The circle was broken, the community was splintered, and eventually all the people died. A long time ago, those people forgot why they formed a circle around their children.
That community died because the people forgot they had a responsibility to protect the entire community, not just their individual dwelling place.
When the circle is broken, the community is broken. Don't lose sight of what's important and stop coming together. So, grab a hand, join the circle in the village and listen to the stories this month — and next. It helps children find their way.
Email
Facebook
Google
Twitter
Favorites
More
Advertisement