Children Play

Children Play

Some say children come from heaven
As in The "Creation of Adam"
See their little souls surrounding
The presence of God

When they come here,
They are given baby bodies
Some better than others
That is this fallen world's way

But the soul is sent from heaven
Carried here in the embrace of God
And it takes a lot longer
Than gestation and delivery
To really get them here

They come slow.
Takes days, months, years
To be overtaken by grownup fears

I have seen children in war
Playing in the craters of bombs
Running through destruction
Those with one leg and a crutch
Are just as fast as the others
And those with no legs
Find a way to play

When children have to go away
Go back too early
At this time also, they go slow

Having never completely forgotten
They see more easily
They leave more gently
Little by little "there"
Seems more real than "here"
So when they pass on over
They've already been there
Awhile. . . and before.

It's not Bible
But it helps the pain.