I went to the beach three times last weekend – not the same beach three times, but three different beaches. I was on the west side of the state for a work event, and I decided to savor Lake Michigan as much as I could. So I visited a different beach on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
At the last beach I visited, there were a lot of children at the water’s edge, playing.
And of course they were. It’s wonderful to feel the waves at your feet or, as some children were doing, run away from them and make a game of it.
I was at the water’s edge, too, taking a walk and enjoying the cool water moving back and forth over my feet. As I walked, I kept weaving in and out among the children. Yes, some were running from the waves. But most were doing something nearly universal.
They were digging. They were building in the sand.
We encounter this at nearly every beach we visit.
When I watched them, I smiled. My first thought was that most children are not obsessed with perfectionism. They’re building and playing for the sheer joy of it. We could learn from that.
But then I found myself thinking about other children.
In another place on the globe, children also build and play in the sand along the shore in Gaza. Som families live in tents by the sea. Children still play as they can. But many no longer have schools. If they are injured, many no longer have hospitals available to care for them. Many have lost parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, and uncles.
These children matter, too.
They build. And they know what it is like to watch what they make disappear – not only because of the waves, but because of the bombs.
—Renee Roederer
Smuggling Grace 