Sometimes small people talk to me.

I’m walking along East 68th between First and Second, headed from a visual field test at the ophthalmologist, feeling my age, but feeling good.

I had been experiencing eye strain while reading and driving. After getting past some Google-driven paranoia that it might be Bubonic-Plague-related bilateral panophthalmitis , I realized that I both needed to wear the reading glasses I had, and probably needed some new ones, too.

They confirmed that I did need a new prescription. They brought me through a series of silly aha moments, where I suddenly remembered, “so this was what seeing was like…”

They dilated my eyes, finished their tests, and sent me on my way.

So now I am wearing a baseball cap and dark sunglasses, looking a little like cosplay secret service, federal agent of the Upper East Side

And at this moment a person roughly half my size and 45 years my junior addresses me, apropos of nothing and says:

I HAVE A BUG!

She talked in all caps.

She was wearing a pink shirt and blue shoes, with a haircut popularized by Matilda and Ramona Quimby.

And thrusting a silver nail-polished finger in my direction, she proudly displays a small round bug.

I said “Is that a ladybug?”

She said: YES!

She said IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!

I said “Happy birthday!”

She said HE LIKES MY NAIL POLISH. THAT’S WHY HES STAYING HERE!

Journalistically, I could take issue with this claim. Pastorally, I wanted to affirm that maybe the bug liked her, whether she had nail polish or not.

But this is her story, so I rolled with it.

She said I’M GOING TO TAKE HIM HOME. HE’S GOING TO BE MY FRIEND!

As the initial disorientation of being accosted by a five-year-old subsides, pretty quickly, I start wondering to whom she might be connected, and where they are.

Up ahead I see two middle-aged Caribbean women who appear to be nannies. Like nearly every middle-aged Caribbean nanny I’ve met, they seem utterly unphased by this, or quite possibly, anything else. They are pushing strollers, and probably scouted the entire situation before I knew they were there.

I waved. They nodded.

I told my tiny conversation partner, “I think you’re gonna lose your people.”

This did not move her.

So Lady Bug and I walked for a city block.

She had much more to say, about bugs, and birthdays, and plans for the afternoon.

I tried to honor each with some sort of response. At the next light, I deposited her with her waiting Nannies, and we were all on our way.

And I take from it some principles for today.

1. There’s something divine in a random small person engaging you without reservation. It speaks to the innocence of children. It’s an unthinking trust.

2. There’s something Holy in the obligations it produces. I left my ophthalmology appointment a free man. And five minutes later, I was one again. But for those five minutes, I was responsible, not just for the safety of a child, but the world of fantasy and wonder she inhabited. I could have grumpily dismissed her. I could have immediately referred her back to the adults she was with. But I was standing on Holy Ground.

There's something sacred in the untamed wonder of a child. By grown-up standards this girl was speaking too loudly and too much. She was exuberantly bothering an adult minding his own business.

I pray she never stops.

Jesus welcomed children, even when his friends considered them a nuisance.

Matthew 19:13-15 NIV says:

Then people brought little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked them. Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there.

Jesus prioritized the children's well-being. He made sure they received their time.

I pray we would do likewise.

I pray we would take the time to be the village.

I pray we would be safe members of the village.

I pray we would rediscover our wonder, that we would talk a little too long, speak a little too loud, and be a little too friendly.

I pray the people we meet would honor that Divine quality, but if they don’t, I pray we would not let it change us, that we would walk in the sacred song space of “This joy that I have, the world didn’t give it. The world can’t take it way. “

For five minutes today, I took a village assignment. And I’m glad I did.

Traveling mercies, beloved.

Look out for the ladybugs.

(Photo Credit: Diana)