The little tyke couldn't have been older than four, five. He advanced hesitantly to the swings, then the climbing equipment, but his eyes were on the game in the nearby clearing. At first glance he seemed to be alone. I quickly scanned the parking lot and picnic facilities to make sure someone was watching out for him. Relief! Two adults were keeping an eye on him from their vantage point in the shelter. I looked again to the boy. A wide smile filled his small face as he followed the antics on the field.
There, just out of the shade, my nieces and brother-in-law, Dan, were playing kick-ball. Twelve-year-old Camilla pitched the ball to her sister. Jianna (all girl at age seven) gave it a tentative kick and ran for the frisbee that served as first base. Safe! Her older sister Micah also made it to third base successfully, her long, black tresses flowing behind her.
Dan took a brief break under the shade tree where I sat. “You may have another eager player here,” I said, nodding at the young boy. Dan quickly downed some water, then called over to the lad. “I could sure use an extra player on my team,” he said. “Could you help me out? Would you like to play?” The boy's smile brightened as he ran out onto the field.
"The simple things make all the difference."
The pitch came and our new recruit returned the ball with a swift kick. Camilla quickly scooped it up, then held it, allowing the younger child to safely make first base. “Good job!” we all cheered. With another player up to kick, he soon second, then third before making it home to loud applause.
Game-play continued this way for some time when I noticed that the small boy's “people” were headed to join us. The man introduced himself as the boyfriend of the mother and thanked me for letting the little guy play. I soon learned that our eager ballplayer had a degenerative bone disease. This type of exercise was good for him, helped maintain his range of motion. Unfortunately he didn't often have the opportunity to play with other children.
I looked out to the field and this time noticed the slight limp as the child ran. I saw the determination in his face as he approached his goal and the grin that lit up his eyes when “safe!” rang out.
Asking the boy to join us was simple enough. And added another level of teamwork and sharing to the game. But upon hearing the boy's story, I was reminded that it's the simple courtesies in life that make the difference. Those seemingly inconsequential efforts have a power all their own. Especially in the life of a child.
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