A Quiver Full of Arrows

Knock, knock, knock! A smile greets me as the mother opens the door. The children come out to talk to their babysitter and attempt to avoid their bedtime. They give me intructions. Soon afterward, the parents open the front door. The moment their feet set ouside the doorway I am no longer in America.

I am in the forest where the ancient trees are stolidly standing like the pillars of a cathedral. The hooves of a dapple grey softly ruffle the dead leaves as the horseman bends forward. The ivory case he hands me is etched with delicate markings yet the beauty lies not in the case itself but in its contense. Three arrows, it held, each different and unique. The first was longer in its length, foretelling the great distance it would fly. Another was smooth. Certainly its aim would be sure and true. The last arrow boasted of a deadly tip. No matter where it struck, it would leave an indelible mark.

" Take care of them. I give them to you for a time. I will be back for them."

A fluttering of motion, a stirring of the leaves, a distant sound of hoof beats and the rider is gone.

He will be back. Thought I. And soon. I must keep these as I would my own honor.

Such are my thoughts, as I am honored with the care of children, any children for any length of time. There is a verse in Proverbs that addresses this very subject of children, describing them as "arrows in the hands of a mighty warrior."

These thoughts are especially real as I am currently attending 3 children's needs (7, 4, and 15 months) for two days- by myself. Tomorrow is when I will be relived of my responsibility. Tomorrow I pass on the precious quiver full to another who will safely guard it until the rider's final return.

Each of these little lives are unbelievably precious. I am truly honored to have this quiver placed in my hands for a few moments, however brief.