Every Child Reminds Me of My Child

He was tall and sinewy but appeared feminine with long hair, wearing an attractive blouse and jeans.  Pretty, with a “Leave me alone” kind of look. 

He appeared to be having trouble with the self-checkout register, so I stepped over and asked quietly if I could help. 

“Huh?” he said brusquely. “Um, no thanks.”

I stepped back and watched him some more. I could see he wanted to be left alone, and I assumed it was a protective mode so he could buy his groceries in peace. 

I thought of my transgender friends.  One wrote how she was recently told at her workplace that she couldn’t use the restroom there anymore. She had to leave the location and go to the gas station across the street.  Another parent told how his kid was beaten up at a concert because he was transgender. I saw a meme just this morning lauding a biblical reference where their god supposedly killed people who were LGBTQ.

I stepped back up to the person at the self-checkout.

“Pardon me for imposing…”

“Yeah,” he said, not at all friendly.

“My name is David, and I have two transgender daughters. May I ask what pronouns you use?”

“Um…, he and him.”

I reached out and shook his hand. 

“I’m here most nights,” I said. “If you ever need any help when you’re here, just let me know. I’ll be glad to take care of you. 

“Well, I, uh… I will be in town for a month and probably stop in most every day.”

“Okay, I’ll be looking for you. By the way, anyone here is happy to help you. Have a good day.

These days, everyone reminds me of my kids. Little babies, prepubescents, teens, and young adults. I still think of my children at those ages, all at the same time. 

I wish my arms were long enough and strong enough to wrap around all of the young ones I encounter and hold them while I glare at the rest of the world, reminding them that someone named Jesus told the adults that of such are made the kingdom of heaven. 

I don’t believe in Jesus, and I don’t think there is a heaven, but I agree that children are special.  I’d love to protect them all, but sometimes all I can do is take their hand and say, “Can I help you?”