
A liturgy for those who guard our gates.
This day I pause to remember those who—in all weather, in all hours, in all circumstances—stand their ground and stand in their place.
I remember today those seen daily, yet who remain “unseen” by virtually all who pass by them.
I remember today those who wield power via the slightest gesture—an upraised hand, a nod of the head, a forward motion of the hand—yet are often disrespected by scowls, by frustration or even by the verbiage of anger of those seeking passage.
I reflect today on the paradox of power in remembering those in the lowest ranks of power and authority on my campuses, yet within their domain control all comings and goings at my school.
I remember today those whose names are known by a scant handful of the thousands who pass by them.
I remember today the campus guards at my school.
I confess that I am in the majority and not a part of the scant handful who know their names. I confess that even in my calling as an ambassador I fail to “see” them though I daily interact in some way with them.
I ask that they “be seen” today, that they “be acknowledged” today, that they “be appreciated” today.
Make me an instrument for seeing, acknowledging, appreciating.
Make me an instrument of love for these guards.
They are faithful in their vigilance; they are faithful to maintain; they are faithful to serve. May “the teacher be taught” by them for they have honed attributes that You desire honed in me.
In the meantime, remind me of the power of a smile, the heart-touch of gracious words and the honor that I can bestow by my compliant obedience.
Remind me to respect the authority which they wield—even when it interferes with my day or my routine.
Bless these watchmen of our campus. Bless them “to be known” by those who pass by. Thank you that they are known to You.
Amen.
