And a Little Child Shall Lead Them

I was sitting in a chair in the children’s section of our small local library. It was very quiet there, even by library standards. There didn’t seem to be any other visitors, and I didn’t plan to stay there long – I was just waiting for the mechanic whose shop was next door to finish inspecting my daughter’s car. I had randomly chosen a book from a nearby shelf and was looking through it without much interest.

I looked up when I heard voices. A women had entered the library with a baby in her arms and two young children at her feet. They were heading toward the children’s section where I sat. The woman began looking through the shelves, with the baby still in her arms and a toddler sitting on the floor beside her.

But the oldest of the children, six years old, was more interested in me. While adults usually try to take to surreptitious peeks at my contorted face and bald head, children are more obvious about their curiosity. This little girl was no exception. She stared at me for a minute, then began to skip and dance in a circle around my chair. When she finished a round and came back to my face, she stopped and stared again for a while, then returned to her joyful dance. After the fourth loop, I decided to start a conversation.

“I’m funny-looking, aren’t I?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Are you wondering why I look different?”

Another nod.

I explained to her that a few years earlier I had learned that something was growing inside my head; something that wasn’t supposed to be there. When the doctor took it out, it made the right side of my face paralyzed, so I couldn’t make it move. I demonstrated my paralysis by making the funny faces that always result from my attempts to move both sides of my face, The little girl gave me an understanding nod and went back to dancing around my chair.

After a few rounds, she stopped in front of me and said, “It’s okay. Some people are different. My Mom is different than my Dad.”

A another round of dancing and she was back to talk to me. “Anyway,” she said, “What you look like on the outside doesn’t matter. It’s what you are on the inside that counts.”

Before she could return to her dancing, her mother called her and said it was time to leave. She moved toward her mother and the door, but soon turned around and ran back to me. “Will I see you again?” she asked. Her voice was hopeful.

“I think you will,” I said. “I hope you will.”

With my niece Mia

We come into the world with no ideas about judgment. If I walked in to the Sunbeams class and asked the 3- and 4-year-old children, “How many of you can draw? How many of you can sing? How many of you can dance?” I’d see hands waving eagerly, and hear sweet little voices saying “Oh, I can! I can!” I could ask “How many of you are smart? How many of you are beautiful? How many of you know that Heavenly Father loves you?” and I’d hear eager voices saying “Me, Me, Me!”

But suppose I asked the same questions to the adults in Relief Society, or in Priesthood meeting. I think I’d get a very different response.

With my son Adam

The world is too much with us, the poets say. And I believe it’s often true. The world tells us, as we begin to grow up, that we aren’t thin enough, not good-looking enough, aren’t talented enough – just not good enough.

The world tells us that money and power are all-important, that it’s foolish and naive to believe in a God we can’t see. The world tries to drag us down. But the Savior lived and died to lift us up.

That is why Christ told us to become as a little child. He wants us to shake off the lies of the world and believe the truth. He wants us to be generous-hearted, not puffed up with pride or depressive thoughts. He asks us to accept His great offering, and return to the purity we were born with.

We all know what we should do. But sometimes we forget. Maybe, every once in a while, we should stop and let a little child lead us.

 . . . and a little child shall lead them (Isaiah 11:6)