The picture you are gazing at is a picture drawn by the missionary kids who were part of the evacuation from the country. It was drawn at a time when they were in the compound while the war was happening all around them. This picture was given to me by one of the missionaries who thought I would find this intriguing.
It doesn’t take a trained therapist to see the myriad of emotions racing through these children’s mind and displayed on this white canvas. It brings me back to a poem that was penned by Shel Silverstein that so aptly applies to this situation. Here it is:
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there’s poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightening strikes me?
Whatif I don’t grow taller?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won’t bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don’t grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Every thing seems swell, and then, the night time Whatifs strike again.
These are the types of things racing through everyone’s mind here, children and adult alike. I am honored to be serving in such a time as this and serving these whatifs in the future.