Two weeks ago we had our 4th annual Family Reunion at our usual place up near the Dells in central Wisconsin. This was the best one yet. For a few hours we had the whole family together but for most of 4 days it was Ethan and his parents and Bill and me.
Despite the forecast at the beginning of that week, the weather was beautiful so we got to do hiking every day; Ethan did LOTS of “harvesting” and collecting with each one in the family. We went to the indoor water park several times and we took advantage of the new and improved miniature golf course.
Since it was November, and threatening rain, and just a bit windy, we ended up with the mini-golf course all to ourselves. That meant we could take our time and “golf” at our own pace.
Ethan was eager to begin and barely waiting for Daddy’s instructions, hit the ball on Hole One. It landed too far from the cup so, as he has done since he was eighteen months old, he picked up his ball and moved it closer to the cup and then shoved it in using his golf club like a croquet mallet.
John decided this was a good time to teach Ethan a few of the finer points of mini-golf and some of the rules of golfing with a group. Being only 5, Ethan was a bit impatient with his father’s instructions and wanted to just get on with the game. But John was incredibly patient and gently instructed Ethan on how to hold his golf club to get the most accuracy from his hit. John also patiently reminded Ethan that he couldn’t just pick the ball up and move it, nor could he dribble it down the green like a soccer ball (he had played soccer most of the summer).
When Ethan seemed to be at the end of his patience and beginning to be too frustrated, John relaxed and let him dribble the ball into the cup. John achieved a wonderful balance of instruction and insistence on following the rules with letting Ethan be the little kid that he really is.
Much to our mutual surprise and delight, Ethan quickly developed a surprising accuracy, especially with his first whack of the ball. Inevitably his ball went right through the hazard, or over the moguls; he avoided the “water hazards” and the “sand traps”. In fact, he hit a Hole-In-One on about the 6th or 7th hole. We were astounded and Ethan was overjoyed. Suddenly miniature golf was more fun than he thought.
Eventually we each had a hole-in-one (John had two). By the time we finished the (most difficult of them all) eighteenth hole, Ethan insisted that we “high-five” each other after running around the green.
By now the wind had really picked up and rain was spitting on the parking lot as we walked back to the car. But none of us minded; we had an inner glow that kept us warm.
Bill and I feel ever blessed to have the family God has given us. Our family retreats are a great joy to us. We rejoice that our girls want to spend this time with us and are willing to sacrifice their schedules to participate. It is ever a delight that our grandson crows with joy at the thought of going to “the cabin” again. And how can we even begin to explain to others the delight we find in our son-in-law. He and Becki have worked out a wonderful relationship in the midst of their stress-filled world. As the stay-at-home (he runs his business out of their home) parent, we could not be more blessed.
John’s desire for Ethan to become all that he is capable of, combined with a patience and gentleness is a gift beyond any of our expectations.
John isn’t perfect ( he is a human being after all) but this past weekend he kept reminding me of my heavenly father. God wants us to learn the rules, he wants us to develop the skills he gave us, he wants us to become all that he designed us to be, but he is ever the patient and loving one who waits for us to be ready to grow in the fits and spurts that characterize most of our lives.
And once in a while, we get a Hole-in-One!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
I Want to Learn, Learn, Learn…
We met them, Ethan and his Mom and Dad, in Elkhorn for lunch. As soon as the last bite was swallowed we were out the door and headed to the Apple Barn Orchard and a day of harvesting and other adventures yet to unfold.
Ethan was so excited he could hardly keep his feet on the ground.
We drove down the long country road and up ahead we could see the trees planted in careful rows and bent sometimes to the ground with red orbs of fruit. By now Ethan was bouncing with excitement – a good time to remind him of the rules of apple picking in an orchard. Then we drove past the pumpkin patch and his excitement overflowed until all of us were caught up in anticipation of the activities ahead.
Even though the day was overcast and threatening rain, the parking lot was fairly crowded as we made our way carefully between family groups and kids pulling wagons loaded with produce. Ethan crowed with delight when he saw two kids sitting on huge pumpkins in a wagon pulled by their grandfather.
We purchased the largest bag available for apple harvesting and made our way into the orchard. “Where are the apples we want to pick?” Ethan wanted to know. Becki pointed out that each row was marked by a clear sign telling the type of apple trees planted in that row. As a further reinforcement, Becki made Ethan read the sign of rules before we began, he read without hesitation. We made our way to the Ida Red row and tried to decide with which tree to begin. The trees loaded with ripe red fruit beckoned with promises of pies, and sauce, and apple-crisp, and dried apples and…
Ethan’s first attempt at picking resulted in harvesting twin apples and he held them as he would some precious treasure. Soon, however, the bag was full and we debated about purchasing a second bag, but Becki knew it would take her awhile just to deal with the harvest we had.
We took our loaded bag back to the car and returned to select a few pumpkins. The patch held an overwhelming number of orange and green fruits of every size and shape imaginable. It took us quite awhile to find one giant specimen that fit Ethan’s needs for carving and then a smaller one for decoration. We lugged these two orange beauties back to the stand and Grandma picked out a warty pumpkin for herself from the wagon.
It was time for a treat break so with cups of hot cider and a bag of apple donuts we headed to one of the picnic tables. We watched as dark clouds scudded across the sky. Refortified with the treats we went into the barn and looked at the numerous apple and pumpkin related crafts and products available. Ethan walked out with a jar of calico popping corn and Grandma had a jug of cider.
The dark clouds continued to pile up, but we decided we could risk a hay ride, especially since the wagon had a roof over the hale bales. Two trips around the orchard was a delightful amount of rest and gave us an overview of at least a part of the orchard.
Grandma was dropped at home to begin supper while the rest of the gang went to see the “Squash Guy” here in Janesville. Supper was just about ready when the gang returned loaded down with squash and gourds of every shape and size imaginable. Aunt Deb and the two dogs arrived soon after and we gathered around the table to enjoy a hot meal and recount the delights of the day. While the rest of the gang cleaned up after the meal, Ethan and I went downstairs to raid Grandma’s “Fall Box”. Ethan chose a number of dried seed pods, nuts and other decorations some of which he would take home, the rest to “play” with then. We carried his bounty upstairs and soon he had rows of “harvest” laid out on the living room floor. As he displayed them in rows of like items, he named them using all the different names of squash he knew. When he ran out of names he knew, he made up likely sounding names based on seed catalogs, identifying books, visits to the Farmers Market (in both Janesville and Chicago).
Ethan loves to know the names of things. He wants to know the name of all the flowers in any garden he sees. He wanted to know the names of all the apples, all the squash, all the gourds, all the… He is enchanted when he finds a new book at the library that helps him identify the names of any number of things (shells, leaves, trees, flowers, insects, reptiles…well, you get the idea). He not only wants to know the common names, but he loves knowing the Latin names. He is unaware that quoting Latin might sound precocious and even arrogant he just wants to know.
He went off to kindergarten this year, after 3+years of preschool, and we all held our breath. We called him when he got home from his first day and he excitedly told us that he was learning Spanish, had Art, had Phy Ed. and… The only reason he is able to have all these different classes is the parents in their neighborhood in Chicago raised enough money on their own to pay for the extra teachers. We (his parents, grandparents and aunts) wonder what will happen when Ethan knows more than his teachers, but we will cross that bridge when it happens.
To our mutual delight Ethan wants to learn!
He has a thirst for knowledge, to know the names of things, to know how to grow things, how to cook things, how to play certain games, how to…
Bill and I get immense joy participating in contributing to his knowledge. What a privilege we have!
Hopefully some day Ethan will also have a great thirst to know more and more about God, about being his child, about how it works to be a Christian in this crazy world we live in.
As I get older, my thirst to know God seems to grow instead of diminishing. The more I learn, the more I want to know, to understand, to figure out. I can’t seem to get enough. My favorite kind of friend is one who will discuss with me, debate with me, share with me about their own knowledge of God and themselves and how it all fits together. I am blessed beyond words that my husband and my family fill this role, and God has given me many friends besides.
There are days when it seems like Ethan would rather learn, and revel in his knowing, than play with the fabulous toys that are available for kids these days.
Oh that each of us would thirst so to know God, and find it more satisfying that the most elaborate entertainment that man can devise. The Psalmist says, “Oh taste and see that the Lord is GOOD, His love endures forever.”
Ethan was so excited he could hardly keep his feet on the ground.
We drove down the long country road and up ahead we could see the trees planted in careful rows and bent sometimes to the ground with red orbs of fruit. By now Ethan was bouncing with excitement – a good time to remind him of the rules of apple picking in an orchard. Then we drove past the pumpkin patch and his excitement overflowed until all of us were caught up in anticipation of the activities ahead.
Even though the day was overcast and threatening rain, the parking lot was fairly crowded as we made our way carefully between family groups and kids pulling wagons loaded with produce. Ethan crowed with delight when he saw two kids sitting on huge pumpkins in a wagon pulled by their grandfather.
We purchased the largest bag available for apple harvesting and made our way into the orchard. “Where are the apples we want to pick?” Ethan wanted to know. Becki pointed out that each row was marked by a clear sign telling the type of apple trees planted in that row. As a further reinforcement, Becki made Ethan read the sign of rules before we began, he read without hesitation. We made our way to the Ida Red row and tried to decide with which tree to begin. The trees loaded with ripe red fruit beckoned with promises of pies, and sauce, and apple-crisp, and dried apples and…
Ethan’s first attempt at picking resulted in harvesting twin apples and he held them as he would some precious treasure. Soon, however, the bag was full and we debated about purchasing a second bag, but Becki knew it would take her awhile just to deal with the harvest we had.
We took our loaded bag back to the car and returned to select a few pumpkins. The patch held an overwhelming number of orange and green fruits of every size and shape imaginable. It took us quite awhile to find one giant specimen that fit Ethan’s needs for carving and then a smaller one for decoration. We lugged these two orange beauties back to the stand and Grandma picked out a warty pumpkin for herself from the wagon.
It was time for a treat break so with cups of hot cider and a bag of apple donuts we headed to one of the picnic tables. We watched as dark clouds scudded across the sky. Refortified with the treats we went into the barn and looked at the numerous apple and pumpkin related crafts and products available. Ethan walked out with a jar of calico popping corn and Grandma had a jug of cider.
The dark clouds continued to pile up, but we decided we could risk a hay ride, especially since the wagon had a roof over the hale bales. Two trips around the orchard was a delightful amount of rest and gave us an overview of at least a part of the orchard.
Grandma was dropped at home to begin supper while the rest of the gang went to see the “Squash Guy” here in Janesville. Supper was just about ready when the gang returned loaded down with squash and gourds of every shape and size imaginable. Aunt Deb and the two dogs arrived soon after and we gathered around the table to enjoy a hot meal and recount the delights of the day. While the rest of the gang cleaned up after the meal, Ethan and I went downstairs to raid Grandma’s “Fall Box”. Ethan chose a number of dried seed pods, nuts and other decorations some of which he would take home, the rest to “play” with then. We carried his bounty upstairs and soon he had rows of “harvest” laid out on the living room floor. As he displayed them in rows of like items, he named them using all the different names of squash he knew. When he ran out of names he knew, he made up likely sounding names based on seed catalogs, identifying books, visits to the Farmers Market (in both Janesville and Chicago).
Ethan loves to know the names of things. He wants to know the name of all the flowers in any garden he sees. He wanted to know the names of all the apples, all the squash, all the gourds, all the… He is enchanted when he finds a new book at the library that helps him identify the names of any number of things (shells, leaves, trees, flowers, insects, reptiles…well, you get the idea). He not only wants to know the common names, but he loves knowing the Latin names. He is unaware that quoting Latin might sound precocious and even arrogant he just wants to know.
He went off to kindergarten this year, after 3+years of preschool, and we all held our breath. We called him when he got home from his first day and he excitedly told us that he was learning Spanish, had Art, had Phy Ed. and… The only reason he is able to have all these different classes is the parents in their neighborhood in Chicago raised enough money on their own to pay for the extra teachers. We (his parents, grandparents and aunts) wonder what will happen when Ethan knows more than his teachers, but we will cross that bridge when it happens.
To our mutual delight Ethan wants to learn!
He has a thirst for knowledge, to know the names of things, to know how to grow things, how to cook things, how to play certain games, how to…
Bill and I get immense joy participating in contributing to his knowledge. What a privilege we have!
Hopefully some day Ethan will also have a great thirst to know more and more about God, about being his child, about how it works to be a Christian in this crazy world we live in.
As I get older, my thirst to know God seems to grow instead of diminishing. The more I learn, the more I want to know, to understand, to figure out. I can’t seem to get enough. My favorite kind of friend is one who will discuss with me, debate with me, share with me about their own knowledge of God and themselves and how it all fits together. I am blessed beyond words that my husband and my family fill this role, and God has given me many friends besides.
There are days when it seems like Ethan would rather learn, and revel in his knowing, than play with the fabulous toys that are available for kids these days.
Oh that each of us would thirst so to know God, and find it more satisfying that the most elaborate entertainment that man can devise. The Psalmist says, “Oh taste and see that the Lord is GOOD, His love endures forever.”
It Takes a Village….
“I’m so excited! I have never been this excited in my whole life!”
And so began a recent visit with Ethan.
We had driven down to Chicago to pick him up for four whole days all by himself with Grandma and Grandpa.
I worried just a bit that we would not be able to live up to his expectations - that he would go home from this visit disappointed and not want to come back again. Becki assured me that he was excited about being with Grandma and Grandpa! The weather was not looking as promising as it had several days earlier so some of our planned activities were not going to happen; I worried again.
Our first stop, on the way to Wisconsin, was the Oasis over the Tollway. Ethan loves eating at the oasis, and it works well for Bill and me because we can each get what we want, even if it is from different vendors. We like to sit in the windows above the highway and wonder about the number of trucks both going and coming. Sometimes we can see what they are carrying, but most of the time we have to guess. We were amazed at how well Ethan could read the messages on the sides of many of the trucks. Only certain cursive fonts seemed to stump him.
We got home and after unloading the car and inspecting his bedroom, Ethan and Grandma went outside to inspect the flower beds and the fish pond. Grandpa went to take a nap, a bit worn out after 5 plus hours of driving.
Ethan had a great time “harvesting” the several seed pods I had left in place for just that purpose. He snipped a few things that needed trimming and pointed out several weeds that he instructed Grandma to pull. Then, oh joy of joys, I allowed him to walk into the soybean field behind our house and “harvest” four beans. This was better than all the seed pods in the garden – maybe because this was real harvesting!
Grandpa was still resting so we grabbed a collecting bucket and a pair of clippers and headed to the Ice Age Trail. Ethan was in his element as we hiked and I allowed him to “harvest” flower heads, seed pods, crab apples, and grapes (including some that were now raisins). We talked about the importance of knowing what you were collecting before you touched it and I pointed out the Wild Parsnip, Deadly Nightshade, Stinging Nettles and several other known poisonous plants. We talked about the importance of NOT harvesting protected plants and making sure there were plenty of each plant left behind to reseed the earth. Everything we collected was growing in abundance and is a common plant.
Our bucket was full when we trekked back to the house. We spent a joyous half hour showing Grandpa the results of Ethan’s “harvesting” and then packaged it all to take back to Chicago.
After a “snack” supper (we had had a pretty full meal at the Oasis) we gathered up the now empty collecting bucket, the shears, our sunglasses and this time drove to a different section of the Ice Age Trail.
This time, oh joy and delight, we found several different flowers, some (wormy) apples and two walnuts. We also saw cicadas emerging from their shells and were able to collect a small container full of the discarded shells.
By the time we got home, we were all tired and after reading just a few pages of Ethan’s favorite Shell Guide book, he fell asleep and we followed soon after.
Saturday dawned cloudy, a bit too cool and not very promising, but we headed to the Farmers Market in spite of the weather. It is amazing to watch how vendors respond to an enthusiastic (and knowledgeable) 5-year-old. He picked out a number of items (at my request) and paid for them, engaging each vendor in conversation, collecting a handful of fallen beans in the process. At the end of our hike up and down the several blocks of produce, we turned back to find a “sweet treat”. We were right by the “bakery lady” and she engaged Ethan in conversation. Soon she was asking him if he would like a cookie and she began unwrapping a big M&M cookie. When Bill said those were his favorite, she handed him the other cookie from the two-pack. I reached into my purse to pay for these “purchases” but she waved me away with, “I’m a grandma too!”
We spent the rest of the day playing in the raccoon cave (our basement). Bill and Ethan watched several train videos while Grandma napped, until Ethan asked Grandpa if he could have some “quiet time” in his room. He was sound asleep in minutes – shopping for produce and playing raccoon is hard work!
Sunday it was off to church. Ethan was rewarded for his good behavior with treats after church. Being the pastor’s grandson brings Ethan lots of attention and he always rises to the occasion and engages a great number of people in conversation.
We changed clothes and then headed up to Aunt Deb’s house. Ethan was excited to see Aunt Deb and to see her two dogs again. After joyous greeting with Ethan and two dogs tearing around Aunt Deb’s yard and the flower beds that we had all worked on two months earlier (which were now a riot of color) we headed to a buffet restaurant where, once again, we could each pick what we wanted to eat and try.
We spent most of the afternoon on a nature reserve island near Deb’s house. The giant oaks on the island were dropping their nuts and soon Ethan’s pockets were filled with oversized acorns. Bill and I ambled the quiet, shady paths and rejoiced as our grandson trooped ahead holding his aunt’s hand, joyously exploring various paths, narrating to her the whole time.
Back at Deb’s house, Ethan traipsed around after her examining all her treasures, flower beds, the dogs and cats and their places in the house. They kept up a running conversation and I soaked up some of Deb’s technique with this inquisitive 5 year old. Her training as a child care worker and years of experience with both children and older adults displays itself in a wisdom I envy.
There was a sense of regret when it was time, after supper, to head back to Janesville. Ethan kept himself awake during the hour ride home looking for trains, animals, and was rewarded with a glimpse of Sand Hill Cranes, Blue and White Herons, and other water fowl.
Monday dawned all too soon, and with mutual regret we packed up all the “harvest” and other stuff necessary for a 5 year-old’s visit and headed back down the Tollway to Chicago. Several times on the trip home Ethan wished aloud that he could have stayed at our house longer – after all, we could have done much more harvesting. So we talked about future visits, and future trips we can take together and soon we were all looking forward to whatever adventure is next.
So, what is the theology from this visit? I could certainly talk about “harvesting”. That was Ethan’s focus for this visit. But for me the lesson was more about community – the community it takes to raise a child. It usually takes both Bill and me to keep this energetic child occupied. We are fortunate that we each have interests that Ethan enthusiastically embraces and so he is happy to be with both of us, or one of us at a time.
It is a delight when we go anywhere (in this case the Farmer’s Market and church) that Ethan easily engages with other adults (and children) and they contribute to his knowledge and well-being.
In times past family often lived within “shoutin” distance of one another and a child could go from extended family member to family member. Bill and I each have such fond memories of a grandparent(s) who was so important during our growing up years. Now we are one or several hours away from each other. We cherish the times we are able to get together with Deb and to watch and enjoy her interaction with her nephew. We could entertain Ethan without her, but we are all the richer when we have time with her. It takes all of us to really do a good job raising Ethan to be a healthy, well-rounded, contributing adult.
It takes many people in my life to make/keep me as a healthy, well-rounded, contributing Christian. Bill and I have a wonderful interactive discussion life about many things. But I also cherish the several Bible study groups (each so different from the others) that contribute to my stretching and growing as a Christian. In fact, every time I interact with another person about my faith (Deb, my sister, perhaps you) I grow just a bit, and sometimes more than a bit.
Books are great, and study of God’s Word is essential, but I would not be whole without the input of many people in my life.
It takes a village to grow a child; it takes a village to grow a Christian.
9/09
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Fireworks!
This was to be Ethan’s first real, up close and personal experience with fireworks and his folks wanted it to be both memorable and convenient. So we gathered at Aunt Deb’s.
We all arrived, from points south, just as the morning’s parade was finishing up. After all the greetings (including the dogs) were done, and Ethan had inspected both his bedroom for the night, and Aunt Deb’s new flower beds, we all hiked over to the park. The park was part of the reason this location was chosen for this first fireworks event.
There was a small carnival set up at the park and Ethan had a great time riding the three “kiddie rides”. I sighed deeply to myself, realizing that this is probably the last summer he will be content with just the kiddie rides.
Three rides don’t take very long, so we also spent time playing at the awesome playground just across from where the carnival was set up. One cotton candy later and it was time to hike back to Aunt Deb’s for our cookout, a time for bubble blowing and more just visiting. Ethan also helped Aunt Deb with a bit of weeding. In fact, he was a bit frustrated that she didn’t have more gardening for him to do.
We waited as long as we could but finally, around 8:15, we packed up chairs, blankets, bug spray and Grandma’s sparklers and headed back to the park. It wasn’t quite time, but we couldn’t wait any longer to be where they would shoot off the fireworks. The excitement was just too great.
On the mile-and-a-half hike over to the park we could see backyard fireworks going off all around us. Some were quite impressive and we wondered that people could spend so much money in these days of economic uncertainty. Judging by Ethan’s enchantment, the day will come when he will want to shoot off their own fireworks too.
We were nearly to the park when the sun neared its approach to the horizon. Suddenly the sky to the west turned orange and the whispy clouds strewn across the canopy turned pink slowly fading to lavender.
“Look, Grandma, there are fireworks in the sky - God’s fireworks!” I grinned at Ethan and we stopped to watch the color sweep further and further along the horizon. Suddenly the backyard fireworks were insignificant as we watched blue sky turn pink, then purple, then blue gray.
It was done by the time we got settled on the hillside overlooking the ball field where the canisters of fireworks were set up and guarded by firemen.
We again turned our attention to the backyard displays and then the more spectacular display of the next town to the north.
Before it got too dark, Ethan, John, Becki and I had great fun lighting the sparklers I had brought for the occasion. I remembered, with delight, my own youth and the enchantment of lit sparklers. Ethan seemed enchanted as well. But soon the sparklers were gone and John gathered up the spent wires and disposed of them in a trash can. I promised to buy more for next year.
We again climbed the hill and waited impatiently for the “real” fireworks to begin. The backyard displays were rapidly losing their enchantment and the display from Juneau was too far away.
I had about run out of distracting conversation when we heard the characteristic pop and the sky above our heads lit up with color.
Soon burst after burst filled the sky and we oooed and ahhed along with everyone else as one burst open before the previous one had finished cascading to the ground.
Ethan gave me a running commentary throughout the whole show. But it was o.k. We were getting to enjoy them together and with the whole family.
And then there was a pause and the ground erupted with color and fountains of light and sparklers larger than if we had lit all my six boxes at once. Rockets burst out of the fountains of sparks and soared to burst in the sky, so fast that our eyes could not take it all in.
The display seemed to go on forever and then, suddenly, it was over. For several moments there was silence, and then the crowd erupted with applause and cheers. We stood en masse and began to gather up our blankets, chairs, water bottles and trekked back down the hill and along the road to Aunt Deb’s house.
Another 4th of July was over.
A quick kiss good bye and Bill and I headed back south to our own bed. It will be a while before the family is able to all get together again.
But, once again, I have lasting memories of a day together. Ethan’s joy in the simple carnival rides, and no less joy with a well-designed play ground; our mutual pleasure at all being together for a few hours; the excitement and wonder of the fireworks bursting right over our heads – what a day! But, best of all for me, the awesome display of God’s fireworks which needs no holiday to repeat itself over and over.
We all arrived, from points south, just as the morning’s parade was finishing up. After all the greetings (including the dogs) were done, and Ethan had inspected both his bedroom for the night, and Aunt Deb’s new flower beds, we all hiked over to the park. The park was part of the reason this location was chosen for this first fireworks event.
There was a small carnival set up at the park and Ethan had a great time riding the three “kiddie rides”. I sighed deeply to myself, realizing that this is probably the last summer he will be content with just the kiddie rides.
Three rides don’t take very long, so we also spent time playing at the awesome playground just across from where the carnival was set up. One cotton candy later and it was time to hike back to Aunt Deb’s for our cookout, a time for bubble blowing and more just visiting. Ethan also helped Aunt Deb with a bit of weeding. In fact, he was a bit frustrated that she didn’t have more gardening for him to do.
We waited as long as we could but finally, around 8:15, we packed up chairs, blankets, bug spray and Grandma’s sparklers and headed back to the park. It wasn’t quite time, but we couldn’t wait any longer to be where they would shoot off the fireworks. The excitement was just too great.
On the mile-and-a-half hike over to the park we could see backyard fireworks going off all around us. Some were quite impressive and we wondered that people could spend so much money in these days of economic uncertainty. Judging by Ethan’s enchantment, the day will come when he will want to shoot off their own fireworks too.
We were nearly to the park when the sun neared its approach to the horizon. Suddenly the sky to the west turned orange and the whispy clouds strewn across the canopy turned pink slowly fading to lavender.
“Look, Grandma, there are fireworks in the sky - God’s fireworks!” I grinned at Ethan and we stopped to watch the color sweep further and further along the horizon. Suddenly the backyard fireworks were insignificant as we watched blue sky turn pink, then purple, then blue gray.
It was done by the time we got settled on the hillside overlooking the ball field where the canisters of fireworks were set up and guarded by firemen.
We again turned our attention to the backyard displays and then the more spectacular display of the next town to the north.
Before it got too dark, Ethan, John, Becki and I had great fun lighting the sparklers I had brought for the occasion. I remembered, with delight, my own youth and the enchantment of lit sparklers. Ethan seemed enchanted as well. But soon the sparklers were gone and John gathered up the spent wires and disposed of them in a trash can. I promised to buy more for next year.
We again climbed the hill and waited impatiently for the “real” fireworks to begin. The backyard displays were rapidly losing their enchantment and the display from Juneau was too far away.
I had about run out of distracting conversation when we heard the characteristic pop and the sky above our heads lit up with color.
Soon burst after burst filled the sky and we oooed and ahhed along with everyone else as one burst open before the previous one had finished cascading to the ground.
Ethan gave me a running commentary throughout the whole show. But it was o.k. We were getting to enjoy them together and with the whole family.
And then there was a pause and the ground erupted with color and fountains of light and sparklers larger than if we had lit all my six boxes at once. Rockets burst out of the fountains of sparks and soared to burst in the sky, so fast that our eyes could not take it all in.
The display seemed to go on forever and then, suddenly, it was over. For several moments there was silence, and then the crowd erupted with applause and cheers. We stood en masse and began to gather up our blankets, chairs, water bottles and trekked back down the hill and along the road to Aunt Deb’s house.
Another 4th of July was over.
A quick kiss good bye and Bill and I headed back south to our own bed. It will be a while before the family is able to all get together again.
But, once again, I have lasting memories of a day together. Ethan’s joy in the simple carnival rides, and no less joy with a well-designed play ground; our mutual pleasure at all being together for a few hours; the excitement and wonder of the fireworks bursting right over our heads – what a day! But, best of all for me, the awesome display of God’s fireworks which needs no holiday to repeat itself over and over.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
A Light in the City
We recently drove into the city of Chicago to see Ethan. He and his mom and dad had recently returned from a camping trip and he needed to tell us all the stories and show us some of his treasures.
Chicago holds a special place in our hearts. It is where we lived right after Bill finished his undergrad work in Arkansas; where he had his first “real” job.
Chicago is the city where both our girls were born and we explored many of its free and nearly free delights when they were small children.
Chicago is the place where our faith journey made a hard left turn, where we made close friends who not only shared our struggling place in life, but our faith stance, and, in the late 60s, our socio/political outlook.
Plus, Chicago has always had many, MANY wonderful places to eat.
So we made the familiar trek down the interstate and into the heart of the city. There is an energy that begins to grip people as they enter the city. There is a sense of purpose, of drive, sometimes even franticness. There is a sense of life-in-the-moment, almost as if when you pause to take a breath, you will miss that moment.
But there is also a darkness. As we drive down Irving Park Drive we become conscious of the empty buildings, of neighborhoods struggling not to fall further into decay. We are more conscious of potential crime just beyond the sidewalks. All of that is present in smaller cities and towns as well, but when it rolls on for block after block, you are more aware of that darker presence.
By the time we turn off Irving Park Drive, and get to Becki and John’s house, just a couple of blocks away, I am feeling a bit oppressed.
On this particular day, as we drove up to their house, we could hear Ethan through the closed windows of the car, “They are here! Grandma and Grandpa are here!”
He burst through the front door with John just a few steps behind.
Grandpa was out of the car first and Ethan grabbed his free hand and pulled him toward the flower beds that lie between the sidewalk and the curbing.
Without taking a breath, Ethan began to recite to Grandpa the names of the various plants and exclaiming over the ones that had flowered since he had last checked, just a few hours earlier. Then Ethan spied a weed.
He bent at the waist and, as his mother had taught him, he grasped the offending weed down at the ground and pulled it from the soil. Then he saw another, and another.
Soon Grandpa was trailing after the 5 year old gardener carrying a plastic bag to receive all the weeds Ethan could find. It was nearly half full before Ethan stood to survey his work and we all entered the house.
We traipsed up the stairs to Ethan’s room so he could show us some of his treasures that he had hidden away in the corners of the room. More importantly he had to show us the several books he had acquired in the state park gift shop where they had camped, and the several books he had borrowed from the library. As usual these books were field guides to plants, trees, animals etc. We weren’t done hearing all the stories, but it was time for lunch.
The plan had been that Bill and I would take Ethan out for lunch and entertain him somewhere while John got some work done.
Ethan decided he did not want to go out for lunch, but wanted a PBJ sandwich. John found a pizza for us three adults (Becki was at work) and we enjoyed more lively conversation.
At five, Ethan no longer takes a nap every day. Some days he needs an adult to tell him a nap is a good thing. But occasionally he decides on his own. This day he decided that he needed a nap. He also decided that Grandpa should sleep in his room and Grandma should sleep in the guest room that shares a common wall with his bedroom. That way, when he was ready to get up, “I can just knock on the wall and you will know it is time to get up.” And so we went to our appointed places.
Bill was greatly amused that while he “napped” in his chair, Ethan’s head kept popping up over the side of his bunk bed to peer at Grandpa to see if he was asleep. As you would guess, neither of them slept, but I, in the guest room, actually dozed a bit before I heard the knock on the wall.
By then John was very busy fielding phone calls from several clients and trying to get some work done in his office area so Bill and I reverted to a modified version of our original plan and we suggested that we three go check the flowers in the back yard. Ethan whopped with joy at the idea and led us on a charge down the stairs and out the back door.
Bill sank onto one of the comfortable chairs under the gazebo tent armed with his camera while, this time, Grandma followed the gardener around the perimeter of the yard examining the blooming and about-to-be blooming flowers, checking the status of the ripening strawberries and the growth of the pea vines.
Ethan kept commenting on the number of flowers that needed to be dead-headed until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He enlisted Grandma’s help to retrieve a sharp pair of garden scissors and began expertly snipping the spent flowers around the yard.
There was an empty flower pot sitting near the patio table and soon it was nearly filled with spent flowers and beginning seed pods. They were transformed into “exotic spices” to flavor “the soup” Ethan was making as he continued to dead head the flower beds.
Bill and I sat, thoroughly enjoying our grandson’s ability to manicure the flower beds; he has been well taught by his mother. We drank in the beauty, and the peace, of this oasis in the midst of the city.
Birds chirped from every leafy branch, an occasional bee buzzed the flowers looking for nectar. A small fountain burbled against the garage wall. Neighbors walked by and greeted Ethan, admiring his work on the flowers; only the uninitiated were amazed at his ability to know what to snip and what to leave alone.
In the distant background you could hear the steady growl of the traffic on Irving Park. You were vaguely aware of the city out there, but in this lovely haven that Becki, with Ethan’s and John’s help, has created, it disappeared and was replaced with a place of peace and calm and light.
Bill’s shutter clicked, Ethan’s happy voice rose and fell, and I drank in the beauty of God’s bit of creation - a place of peace in the midst of the pressure and decay and self-centeredness that we seem to think is normal life.
Many of us try to create such places in our lives – places of retreat and peace. Once in a while we even find a person who is such a place, in whose presence we find that same sense of peace and contentment.
I came home from the city more resolved to try harder to be that kind of person for others. I am enjoying my own place of retreat more and hope that not only our home, but also our presence will be a light in people’s lives.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
A Perspective on Art
When I sit on the couch in my living room I can gaze out triple windows into the backyard and watch the birds flitting between the tree and the several feeders, one on the window itself.
Or, I can gaze at the fairly large oil (acrylic) painting on the wall, to the left of those windows. Either view gives me great pleasure.
The painting, done in bold shades of purple and magenta and blues, is signed across nearly the bottom fourth of the picture with rather large letters - “ETHAN”.
Gazing at the painting gives me double pleasure because it was not only done by Ethan himself, but he was assisted and guided by his Aunt Deb, an artist in her own right. It was our Christmas gift and will forever be greatly treasured.
We frequently have guests in our home and no one, NO ONE, has ever commented on the skill, the choice of colors, the rendering of the subject matter (it is, in fact, rather abstract) or anything else about the painting, not even the large signature. I suppose this would leave me to believe that this painting may never win any awards. In fact, it reinforces the age old idea that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”. To me, the painting is beautiful.
But so is the quilt that hangs on the opposite wall. It depicts in fabric our goldfish pond with the fish swimming in the water. It was also a gift, this one from our daughter Deb.
But I also like to frequently look at the collage of photographs artfully enhanced by several hours in PhotoShop by my husband Bill. And I thoroughly enjoy our coffee table which is made from recycled barn wood. And…
Our home, after 45 years of marriage, is filled with “art” from friends, family, and purchased from artists across the country on our travels. I supposed the whole collection might not even be “worth” $1000.00, but to me it is priceless.
Recently Bill and I drove about 20 miles to have coffee at the Sweet Spot, and so we could see the Visionary Artists Group Spring Exhibit and our friend Barb’s work.
As soon as we had placed our order for lattes we headed to the adjoining room where there is a fireplace with a mantle. On the mantle sits a pitcher with an arrangement of sunflowers and decorative twigs and pods.
Above the mantle is an arrangement of 5 paintings. One is quite large, one is rather small, three are medium sized. Each is a rendering of the flower arrangement on the mantle. They are in different media, from oil or acrylic to watercolor and one that looks like a line drawing with just a hint of color. Each rendering is unique. In one the pitcher is quite blue, in another it is stark white. In several the sunflowers are bursting with color but no two color choices are exactly the same.
Bill and I gazed at the 5 renderings and each thought about which one we liked best. If we had been bold enough we could have polled everyone in the coffee shop that day and probably gotten a different answer from each person on which rendering they liked best and why.
After sipping our lattes for a few minutes we moved to another wall and gazed at another grouping of 5 paintings, this time of a couple sitting in the window of the Sweet Spot, cups on the table in front of them, a newspaper spread out between them. Once again the renderings were each different. Their sizes were different, the colors were different, and, most interesting to me, was how the depiction of the light pole outside the window varied from painting to painting. In one it was absent entirely. In another it was quite prominent, not overpowering, but definitely there. In another it was almost lost in a mist outside the window.
We then looked at another grouping each called “Sweet Spot at Night”. Here the contrast in styles and moods was most apparent. In one picture, the building was shrouded in dark with sewn on buttons, perhaps to represent spots of light. In another the building was lit up from within and in a different rendering the exterior was bathed in light as at sunset.
We carried our lattes around the room and studied other works of these five artists along with several other conributors. No doubt an expert could have looked at the various works of art and identified the artist without even looking at the cards on the wall.
I am sure everyone entering that room fairly quickly decides what they like and what does not appeal to them. Some bold people might even declare which paintings are “good” and which are “bad” and then tell the rest of us why.
I know what I like and that is what I attempt to surround myself with. I really don’t care if the art in question meets an expert’s requirements. I enjoy art (and crafts) because of the way each item resonates with some inner part of me.
Over the years my appreciation of various styles has grown, has changed, has (I like to think) matured. One thing has strongly impacted my “values” for art and that is getting to know the artist and the “story” behind their art. A painting, a quilt, a garden, a culinary dish takes on a whole new perspective when you understand the artist and some of what shaped the creative process. I have grown in my appreciation of art and as a result my life has become richer.
As I looked at Barb’s painting and then the other paintings grouped with hers, each so different from the others, it struck me that this is a small picture (no pun intended) of how we view God. Each of us see Him slightly differently from the person standing right next to us. Different aspects of God appeal to us more than others because of where we might be at in life. And our perspective changes over time. Hopefully we see Him more clearly as we mature, as we grow in our understanding of not only Him, but of ourselves and as we experience the creative process within us.
And none of us, NONE of us, can say “your perspective is wrong, you need to see this my way”. Perhaps, perhaps, we can say, “Here is another perspective and this is why it is important to me”. If we do that, we also must listen to the other person’s viewpoint and, more importantly, why. I have no doubt that when we do that we grow When we share with otherswho God is to us, with one another, we have the opportunity to all enlarge our perspective, our understanding of who He is and who we are. And our life becomes richer.
Now, if only that flower on the left was a little more…..
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Can We be Raccoons?
“Grandma, can we be raccoons?” Ethan asked, as we headed down the stairs to the finished part of the basement. That’s where we store the toys and other treasures that five-year-old boys seem to enjoy.
“Sure.” I answered, knowing what this would involve, or at least what it had involved during many other visits.
Ethan flipped off the light switch at the bottom or the stairs informing me that we needed to save the environment by turning off all lights that we were not using. “Ah,” I thought to myself, “I know what he has been learning in school this past week.” The basement was plunged into a gloomy darkness, perfect for our game of Raccoons.
We half stooped and ran around the basement gathering up “food” for our “nest” in our “cave” and soon the futon was covered with his artificial fruit, blocks of wood that had turned into other kinds of food, and all sorts of other toys that were now imaginary food for raccoons. Fortunately raccoons have quite a varied diet.
We also spent part of our time “killing” things to add to our diet. I was told that we had become evil raccoons and so we killed things for our food.
I debated then about squashing this boy’s vivid imagination and wondered how his mother would feel about this more aggressive behavior. Well, I was pretty sure I knew how she would feel. We raised two girls so I am not always certain how to respond to this grandson’s more obviously boy behavior. My own opinion is that boys need to release some of that aggression while being taught the correct ways to channel it into productive activity, but I wasn’t quite sure how Becki (and John) felt.
Eventually the grandmother raccoon was tired from all that food hunting and she was allowed to rest in one of the raccoon chairs. We have a very nicely furnished cave! The other raccoon continued to run around the cave and down the hallway into the grandfather raccoon’s room doing raccoony things.
All of a sudden the small raccoon collapsed onto the floor near the foot of the chair where (I) the older raccoon was still resting.
“What’s wrong, Ethan?” I asked, with a bit of concern.
“I am dead.” he announced.
“You be dead, too, Grandma.” So I eased my raccoony body (I don’t just collapse anymore) onto the floor and we lay there “dead”. I wondered in my grandmother raccoon head what was going on now. We had never died before.
Before I could even inquire Ethan sprung up from the floor, did some raccoony stretching and announced, with great joy, “we are alive again, we have been resurrected!”
I sprang up also (well, o.k. I eased myself up off the floor) and we ran around the basement joyously.
“Now we are good raccoons!” Ethan announced. “We don’t kill things anymore!”
“How come?”, I asked.
“Because, we are resurrected!” Ethan looked at me as though I should have known that. “When we are resurrected we can only be good raccoons.”
We continued to hunt for food. Actually we put all the “food” away so we could hunt for it all over again, but this time we only collected fruits and vegetables, and only ones that are good for us, because we were resurrected raccoons.
This all took place the week before Easter and reflected what Ethan had been learning in Sunday School (where Becki is one of his teachers) and from conversations at home.
Later, as I was telling the Grandfather raccoon about our play in “the cave” I could hardly keep the tears from flowing. A prayer went up from my heart that Ethan will continue to find great joy and excitement about the resurrection and a growing understanding of what that means for us.
He may not have all the concepts quite right, but we are now “good” because of Christ’s resurrection – his victory over death, the price for our sins. Like this little “raccoon” we should all be running around with great joy and jubilation hunting for the treasures hidden in life around us by our resurrected king.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Let Me Tell You About my Garden!
“I like the way you have it decorated for Easter”, Ethan commented as he dashed from room to room examining the several bunnies, chicks and, best of all, real eggs I had put around to help us celebrate the most joyous of holidays coming up in one week.
Ethan and his mom, Becki, had been able to free up 3 days from their busy spring break week. And they would spend them with us.
Ethan likes all the “real” things that Grandma usually decorates with and he always races from room to room when he first arrives to see what is on display. He likes to look at the real birds’ nests and the real eggs that I have found over the years and tucked into them, while not necessarily the nest they came out of. He likes the shells, pine cones and other seed pods and so on.
We have a container of toys, a basket of books and a modest collection of puzzles, play dough, etc. but this 5 year-old would rather play with “real” stuff most of the time.
He gets very excited in the summer when we can go to the local farmers’ market and he gets to play with the real fruits and veggies that are in season. To substitute for when the season isn’t right, I have found, over several years, a number of pretty realistic artificial fruits and veggies, but nothing is as good as “real”.
On this week before Easter, after looking through the box of shells, Ethan rejected that idea and asked if we could get down some of Grandma’s rather extensive collection of artificial flowers. “Sure”, I said, a bit puzzled, and we headed to the shelves where most of my seasonal flowers are stored. Soon we were heading up to the living room with armloads of blossoms. In fact, it took us about four trips to get them all upstairs.
“We are going to make a potpourri garden”, Ethan announced to Mom and Grandpa and, with permission, began to stick the various stems into the crevice between the couch cushions and the back, as well as into all the chairs in the room and into several baskets. He spent a happy hour carefully arranging the stems of flowers by size, color, and fullness -- all the while extolling their value as an eventual part of a variety of potpourri mixes.
Soon there was no place to safely sit in the living room and we had to move the dining table chairs into position so visitors to the garden could sit and gaze at the breathtaking beauty before us. Every adult who entered the room was subjected to an informative lecture on the variety of blooms before them and which potpourri they would be good for.
At one point an AT&T man arrived to check some wiring and he got the full lecture. Well, as much as he was willing to stand still for.
When bedtime came on Sunday evening Grandma got to read The Potpourri Garden to Ethan as his bedtime story. Now the obsession with flowers became clear. As always, I was amazed at how much of the information in the book Ethan had retained and could recite back to anyone who would listen.
The next day we drove about 45 min from our house to spend the day with Aunt Deb. Our route takes us past an outlet mall and Becki wanted to stop and pick up a few new garments for Ethan. While he was once delighted to go shopping with his mom, he is quickly becoming a typical boy about looking at clothes. He wanted to know if Carter’s sold silk flowers because we needed a few more for our garden.
When he was told that Carter’s probably didn’t sell flowers of any kind, he didn’t want to even stop at the mall, but he was somewhat appeased when I told him I thought we might find silk flowers at one or two of the other stores.
Unfortunately the store I thought would be the best possibility has closed and is no more. And the other store we tried had nothing that would be suitable for our garden. Needless to say the five-year-old gardener was very disappointed.
Then I thought of Michaels.
Grandpa agreed that we could stop at the Michaels near our house on the way home and, when Becki was done her shopping, we headed south. Ethan had been a bit impatient getting to Aunt Deb’s, now he could hardly wait for every mile to pass. I began to worry about What if….
We parked close to the entrance and kept the eager gardener in check while we crossed the drive lane. I suspect most Michaels are laid out the same way - the bulk of the artificial flowers are just inside the front door.
We walked in the door and Ethan exclaimed, loud enough for everyone in the store to hear, “Mom, look at all the flowers!” He grabbed my hand and steered me over to them, his face effused with joy.
Becki gave him some money to spend and then went off to do her own shopping in a quieter corner of the store.
Ethan gets an allowance and is beginning to understand the concepts of price and expenditure. We spent several minutes pulling stems from containers, examining the price tag and then adding that amount to what he already clutched. It soon became evident that he would only be able to purchase a few stems with the money he had stuffed into his pocket. Grandma began the internal debate about how much she should add to his fund.
Then I spied the seasonal aisle and suggested that those flowers might be on sale. Sure enough! Most things were half price or ever better. Soon Ethan was clutching a giant bouquet of daffodils, iris and small bunches of four other flowers. He was filled with joy.
Now we were racing through the store, flowers bobbing in hand, to find Mom and show her what we had found for his money.
Like most exuberant 5-year-olds, Ethan cannot contain his joy. As soon as he saw Becki he yelled, “Mom, look what we found.” I watched as heads turned and people either smiled, or frowned.
On our way back to the check-out several people commented on “that little boy holding all the flowers.” Whenever they were close by Ethan would joyously explain to them that we needed these for our potpourri garden. Either Becki or I would follow up by explaining that our living room was a riot of flowers. I suspect only a few folks had any idea what we were talking about.
At the check-out he carefully counted out the money Becki had given him and the clerk dutifully exclaimed over his choices. She also got the full explanation of what the flowers were for. The woman behind Becki in line seemed rather enchanted with this excited little boy who would rather play with flowers than… As we exited the store together she asked if her kids could come over and play with Ethan, maybe something would rub off. “Sure”, I said.
On Tuesday I joined the ladies of one of my discussion groups and could hardly wait to tell them about Ethan and the potpourri garden. I guess I was almost as excited as he was.
Bill took a bunch of pictures which we emailed to family and I posted on my Facebook page.
I shared the story with a group at church. Ethan told Daddy all about it over the phone and not only told Aunt Deb about his garden, but gave her advice on replanting her garden (at her invitation). Her comment was that she was now going to have to rip up her whole garden and start over.
If I could pick only one word to describe our three days together, I would choose “Excitement”.
Excitement: enthusiasm, joy, exuberance that could not be contained. It had to be shared with whoever would listen. Some people listened patiently, some joined in the excitement, even when they didn’t fully understand what it was all about, some turned away because, perhaps, they believe that children should be seen, but not heard.
I have to admit that I added my own joy to Ethan’s. It is wonderful to have a grandchild who shares one’s passions. And I did my own share of exuberant telling, with similar reactions to those Ethan got.
One of the things that Ethan has yet to learn, and perhaps I am still learning, is how to judge who wants to hear what he has to say, and who would be better just left alone.
It is often like that when we are sharing our faith. Sometimes we are so filled with joy at what we are discovering about God that we just can’t contain it. Our excited sharing seems to spill out to everyone we encounter. And we get the same reactions that Ethan got; some people listen patiently, some join in the excitement, even when they didn’t fully understand what it is all about, while some turn away wishing you would just be quiet.
I hope as Ethan matures that he NEVER loses his ability to express his joy. I know he will need to learn to judge whom to share with and how to share that enthusiasm, but may he never be so rebuffed that he stops sharing with anyone.
And I pray that we will never lose our joy in our discovery of who Christ is and who we are in relation to Him. May we always find someone with whom we can let that joy spill over, even when they might not fully understand, they will just accept us, even feel some of our joy themselves.
Ethan and his mom, Becki, had been able to free up 3 days from their busy spring break week. And they would spend them with us.
Ethan likes all the “real” things that Grandma usually decorates with and he always races from room to room when he first arrives to see what is on display. He likes to look at the real birds’ nests and the real eggs that I have found over the years and tucked into them, while not necessarily the nest they came out of. He likes the shells, pine cones and other seed pods and so on.
We have a container of toys, a basket of books and a modest collection of puzzles, play dough, etc. but this 5 year-old would rather play with “real” stuff most of the time.
He gets very excited in the summer when we can go to the local farmers’ market and he gets to play with the real fruits and veggies that are in season. To substitute for when the season isn’t right, I have found, over several years, a number of pretty realistic artificial fruits and veggies, but nothing is as good as “real”.
On this week before Easter, after looking through the box of shells, Ethan rejected that idea and asked if we could get down some of Grandma’s rather extensive collection of artificial flowers. “Sure”, I said, a bit puzzled, and we headed to the shelves where most of my seasonal flowers are stored. Soon we were heading up to the living room with armloads of blossoms. In fact, it took us about four trips to get them all upstairs.
“We are going to make a potpourri garden”, Ethan announced to Mom and Grandpa and, with permission, began to stick the various stems into the crevice between the couch cushions and the back, as well as into all the chairs in the room and into several baskets. He spent a happy hour carefully arranging the stems of flowers by size, color, and fullness -- all the while extolling their value as an eventual part of a variety of potpourri mixes.
Soon there was no place to safely sit in the living room and we had to move the dining table chairs into position so visitors to the garden could sit and gaze at the breathtaking beauty before us. Every adult who entered the room was subjected to an informative lecture on the variety of blooms before them and which potpourri they would be good for.
At one point an AT&T man arrived to check some wiring and he got the full lecture. Well, as much as he was willing to stand still for.
When bedtime came on Sunday evening Grandma got to read The Potpourri Garden to Ethan as his bedtime story. Now the obsession with flowers became clear. As always, I was amazed at how much of the information in the book Ethan had retained and could recite back to anyone who would listen.
The next day we drove about 45 min from our house to spend the day with Aunt Deb. Our route takes us past an outlet mall and Becki wanted to stop and pick up a few new garments for Ethan. While he was once delighted to go shopping with his mom, he is quickly becoming a typical boy about looking at clothes. He wanted to know if Carter’s sold silk flowers because we needed a few more for our garden.
When he was told that Carter’s probably didn’t sell flowers of any kind, he didn’t want to even stop at the mall, but he was somewhat appeased when I told him I thought we might find silk flowers at one or two of the other stores.
Unfortunately the store I thought would be the best possibility has closed and is no more. And the other store we tried had nothing that would be suitable for our garden. Needless to say the five-year-old gardener was very disappointed.
Then I thought of Michaels.
Grandpa agreed that we could stop at the Michaels near our house on the way home and, when Becki was done her shopping, we headed south. Ethan had been a bit impatient getting to Aunt Deb’s, now he could hardly wait for every mile to pass. I began to worry about What if….
We parked close to the entrance and kept the eager gardener in check while we crossed the drive lane. I suspect most Michaels are laid out the same way - the bulk of the artificial flowers are just inside the front door.
We walked in the door and Ethan exclaimed, loud enough for everyone in the store to hear, “Mom, look at all the flowers!” He grabbed my hand and steered me over to them, his face effused with joy.
Becki gave him some money to spend and then went off to do her own shopping in a quieter corner of the store.
Ethan gets an allowance and is beginning to understand the concepts of price and expenditure. We spent several minutes pulling stems from containers, examining the price tag and then adding that amount to what he already clutched. It soon became evident that he would only be able to purchase a few stems with the money he had stuffed into his pocket. Grandma began the internal debate about how much she should add to his fund.
Then I spied the seasonal aisle and suggested that those flowers might be on sale. Sure enough! Most things were half price or ever better. Soon Ethan was clutching a giant bouquet of daffodils, iris and small bunches of four other flowers. He was filled with joy.
Now we were racing through the store, flowers bobbing in hand, to find Mom and show her what we had found for his money.
Like most exuberant 5-year-olds, Ethan cannot contain his joy. As soon as he saw Becki he yelled, “Mom, look what we found.” I watched as heads turned and people either smiled, or frowned.
On our way back to the check-out several people commented on “that little boy holding all the flowers.” Whenever they were close by Ethan would joyously explain to them that we needed these for our potpourri garden. Either Becki or I would follow up by explaining that our living room was a riot of flowers. I suspect only a few folks had any idea what we were talking about.
At the check-out he carefully counted out the money Becki had given him and the clerk dutifully exclaimed over his choices. She also got the full explanation of what the flowers were for. The woman behind Becki in line seemed rather enchanted with this excited little boy who would rather play with flowers than… As we exited the store together she asked if her kids could come over and play with Ethan, maybe something would rub off. “Sure”, I said.
On Tuesday I joined the ladies of one of my discussion groups and could hardly wait to tell them about Ethan and the potpourri garden. I guess I was almost as excited as he was.
Bill took a bunch of pictures which we emailed to family and I posted on my Facebook page.
I shared the story with a group at church. Ethan told Daddy all about it over the phone and not only told Aunt Deb about his garden, but gave her advice on replanting her garden (at her invitation). Her comment was that she was now going to have to rip up her whole garden and start over.
If I could pick only one word to describe our three days together, I would choose “Excitement”.
Excitement: enthusiasm, joy, exuberance that could not be contained. It had to be shared with whoever would listen. Some people listened patiently, some joined in the excitement, even when they didn’t fully understand what it was all about, some turned away because, perhaps, they believe that children should be seen, but not heard.
I have to admit that I added my own joy to Ethan’s. It is wonderful to have a grandchild who shares one’s passions. And I did my own share of exuberant telling, with similar reactions to those Ethan got.
One of the things that Ethan has yet to learn, and perhaps I am still learning, is how to judge who wants to hear what he has to say, and who would be better just left alone.
It is often like that when we are sharing our faith. Sometimes we are so filled with joy at what we are discovering about God that we just can’t contain it. Our excited sharing seems to spill out to everyone we encounter. And we get the same reactions that Ethan got; some people listen patiently, some join in the excitement, even when they didn’t fully understand what it is all about, while some turn away wishing you would just be quiet.
I hope as Ethan matures that he NEVER loses his ability to express his joy. I know he will need to learn to judge whom to share with and how to share that enthusiasm, but may he never be so rebuffed that he stops sharing with anyone.
And I pray that we will never lose our joy in our discovery of who Christ is and who we are in relation to Him. May we always find someone with whom we can let that joy spill over, even when they might not fully understand, they will just accept us, even feel some of our joy themselves.
Let’s Pretend
Roar !
Growl !
Woof woof !
Howl !
Scream !
I was glad that our house is as well insulated as it is. Not just to keep the cold out and keep the heat in, but also to help with the soundproofing. Otherwise a neighbor might be tempted to call 911 about the terrifying noises next door.
Roar !!
Scream !!
Uproarious laughter!!
We were playing one of Ethan’s favorite games, “Let’s pretend…” “Let’s pretend we are raccoons, Grandma…” “Let’s pretend we are sharks, Grandma…”
On the way to our house he asked if we could pretend that we were all adults and talk like we were adults. Bill and I barely suppressed our laughter as we agreed to this request.
Now we were down in the basement pretending that we were dogs (specifically Teddy and Mia, imagined after Aunt Deb’s dogs) and the dogcatcher was chasing us.
For awhile we were running all over the basement while the dog catcher (Grandma) was trying to catch Teddy (Ethan) in a net (a sheet). When she was able to catch Teddy she was supposed to throw him into a cage (a swivel rocker) and lock him in place (with the sheet tucked over and around him). The problem was that Teddy kept escaping and the dogcatcher could only keep up that pace for a short time.
When Teddy realized that the dog catcher had run out of energy (although he still abounded with the stuff – why can we bottle and sell it???) she was allowed to stand in one place in a matador stance while Teddy charged and ran past the outstretched sheet.
We were having an uproarious (literally) time and were only willing to slow down when the dog catcher suggested we go upstairs for a snack of fruit to refuel our energy.
Later in the weekend we were playing some other pretend game which also involved Grandpa and making noises. At one point Grandpa turned to me and whispered, “I didn’t even know I could make those noises.” Bill was too busy trying to go to school and teach at the same time when the girls were Ethan’s age so he missed most of this fun earlier. He is making up for lost time now with his grandson.
Child psychologists would tell us that “Let’s Pretend” is a child’s way of practicing; trying out what is like to behave as an adult. Perhaps it is practice, but they sure have fun doing it and they love it when we play the game with them.
I suppose that these same psychologists would say that this also allows the child to be in charge of the adults. And that is certainly true. Ethan loves it best when he is in charge, when he is telling us how the game is to be played, even if those rules change frequently throughout the game.
The game is only really fun if we participate. Children can certainly pretend on their own. They can easily pretend with other children. I remember the hours my sister and I played “dress-ups” when we were kids. But kids seem to thoroughly relish when adults pretend with them, when adults enter their pretend world.
This weekend Ethan was having fun because Grandma and Grandpa, and later in the weekend, Aunt Deb, were coming down to his level. We were entering his world and playing in his game.
In some ways, for us adults, playing “Let’s Pretend” was exhausting. It also meant, for a brief time, we were setting aside our adultness and becoming like Ethan. It meant shedding some of our inhibitions and making strange noises, running around the basement, waving our arms and sometimes collapsing on the floor (or when we could get away with it, the futon) not like an adult, but like a child.
Is this perhaps, a bit what it was like for Christ, as a part of the trinity of God Himself, to become one of us? To set aside his godness and become human? How limiting must it have been to “run” around as a human, to limit his language to ours, to diminish all of his creative energy to move solely in the realm of the created ones?
Unlike my time with Ethan, Jesus becoming man was not a game, it was deadly serious. But like my time with Ethan, he chose to do it. He did not have to become a man. God surly could have found another way to redeem us. When Jesus chose to become a human, he limited himself to our level, that he might enter our experience, that he might relate to us on our level, in order that we might move toward his level.
Ethan will not fully appreciate “the sacrifice” adults make to become a child like him until he is an adult and his own joints are growing stiff and his own sense of what is appropriate, mature adult behavior has developed. Hopefully he will remember and hopefully it will encourage him to do the same with his kids and grandkids.
I know I don’t begin to appreciate what Christ has done for us, but after this weekend I have a little better idea of what it means to limit oneself. I am struck anew with the wonder that God Himself became human for me.
Growl !
Woof woof !
Howl !
Scream !
I was glad that our house is as well insulated as it is. Not just to keep the cold out and keep the heat in, but also to help with the soundproofing. Otherwise a neighbor might be tempted to call 911 about the terrifying noises next door.
Roar !!
Scream !!
Uproarious laughter!!
We were playing one of Ethan’s favorite games, “Let’s pretend…” “Let’s pretend we are raccoons, Grandma…” “Let’s pretend we are sharks, Grandma…”
On the way to our house he asked if we could pretend that we were all adults and talk like we were adults. Bill and I barely suppressed our laughter as we agreed to this request.
Now we were down in the basement pretending that we were dogs (specifically Teddy and Mia, imagined after Aunt Deb’s dogs) and the dogcatcher was chasing us.
For awhile we were running all over the basement while the dog catcher (Grandma) was trying to catch Teddy (Ethan) in a net (a sheet). When she was able to catch Teddy she was supposed to throw him into a cage (a swivel rocker) and lock him in place (with the sheet tucked over and around him). The problem was that Teddy kept escaping and the dogcatcher could only keep up that pace for a short time.
When Teddy realized that the dog catcher had run out of energy (although he still abounded with the stuff – why can we bottle and sell it???) she was allowed to stand in one place in a matador stance while Teddy charged and ran past the outstretched sheet.
We were having an uproarious (literally) time and were only willing to slow down when the dog catcher suggested we go upstairs for a snack of fruit to refuel our energy.
Later in the weekend we were playing some other pretend game which also involved Grandpa and making noises. At one point Grandpa turned to me and whispered, “I didn’t even know I could make those noises.” Bill was too busy trying to go to school and teach at the same time when the girls were Ethan’s age so he missed most of this fun earlier. He is making up for lost time now with his grandson.
Child psychologists would tell us that “Let’s Pretend” is a child’s way of practicing; trying out what is like to behave as an adult. Perhaps it is practice, but they sure have fun doing it and they love it when we play the game with them.
I suppose that these same psychologists would say that this also allows the child to be in charge of the adults. And that is certainly true. Ethan loves it best when he is in charge, when he is telling us how the game is to be played, even if those rules change frequently throughout the game.
The game is only really fun if we participate. Children can certainly pretend on their own. They can easily pretend with other children. I remember the hours my sister and I played “dress-ups” when we were kids. But kids seem to thoroughly relish when adults pretend with them, when adults enter their pretend world.
This weekend Ethan was having fun because Grandma and Grandpa, and later in the weekend, Aunt Deb, were coming down to his level. We were entering his world and playing in his game.
In some ways, for us adults, playing “Let’s Pretend” was exhausting. It also meant, for a brief time, we were setting aside our adultness and becoming like Ethan. It meant shedding some of our inhibitions and making strange noises, running around the basement, waving our arms and sometimes collapsing on the floor (or when we could get away with it, the futon) not like an adult, but like a child.
Is this perhaps, a bit what it was like for Christ, as a part of the trinity of God Himself, to become one of us? To set aside his godness and become human? How limiting must it have been to “run” around as a human, to limit his language to ours, to diminish all of his creative energy to move solely in the realm of the created ones?
Unlike my time with Ethan, Jesus becoming man was not a game, it was deadly serious. But like my time with Ethan, he chose to do it. He did not have to become a man. God surly could have found another way to redeem us. When Jesus chose to become a human, he limited himself to our level, that he might enter our experience, that he might relate to us on our level, in order that we might move toward his level.
Ethan will not fully appreciate “the sacrifice” adults make to become a child like him until he is an adult and his own joints are growing stiff and his own sense of what is appropriate, mature adult behavior has developed. Hopefully he will remember and hopefully it will encourage him to do the same with his kids and grandkids.
I know I don’t begin to appreciate what Christ has done for us, but after this weekend I have a little better idea of what it means to limit oneself. I am struck anew with the wonder that God Himself became human for me.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
What Are You Thankful For?
“Ethan, what are you thankful for this day?” The question was met with complete silence.
We were seated around the dinner table and, following the routine set a couple of years ago, we were going around the table and saying what we were thankful for that day, before we began eating.
It was the day after Christmas and Ethan had received his share of wonderful and thoughtful gifts, several of which met the requests stated in his letter to Santa. He had just been with his father’s family, where he is loved and gets lots of attention. Now he was with his mother’s family, where he is loved and gets lots of attention. In front of each of us sat plates filled with some of our favorite foods of the season; second helpings waited on the buffet.
“Can’t you think of anything to be thankful for?” Again, complete silence, this time accompanied by a stubborn look that told the rest of us, he was NOT going to respond. I don’t know where he gets that streak of stubbornness. Certainly NO ONE in OUR family has that tendency!
His grandmother (me) found the incident just a bit amusing. His grandfather’s look said ‘let’s just move on.’ His father was a bit disconcerted that his son could think of nothing to be thankful for in the midst of such plenty. His mother’s look told me she knew he was a bit tired from several days of high energy.
And still there was silence.
Sometimes, I have to admit, I feel a bit like Ethan. I try to start each day with some time talking to my heavenly Father. I have an ever changing list of things I talk to Him about concerning many of my friends, my family, and my own personal list.
But there are some mornings when I just don’t feel like praying.
Some days the list feels overwhelming.
Some days the list feels so repetitive. I have a friend who sometimes begins his prayer with, “God, you must get tired of hearing the same requests time after time.”
And once in awhile, I am just feeling stubborn and I just don’t want to talk to God.
The amazing thing is that He is ever patient with me. He waits until I am ready. God is ever ready, even if I am not. David tells us “Each morning you listen to my prayer, as I bring my requests to you and wait for your reply. “ Psalm 5:3
There was a pause as we waited for Ethan to respond. And that stubborn look became more and more pronounced.
Then someone else said what they were thankful for, and we went on around the table. There has been so much to be thankful for, in spite of the economic times. Perhaps we are more grateful because we are more conscious of our gifts during these tougher times.
Eventually we circled back around to Ethan and without a pause he joined us with his own list of things to be thankful for. We always end this time of spoken thankfulness with a hearty AMEN and then dig in to the food.
Like Ethan, sometimes I need to hear the thoughts of others before my heart is ready to chime in with my own list. Most of us can be feeling very sorry for ourselves…until we hear the troubles of others and then we have to send up a word of thanks that our own troubles are so small.
But also like Ethan, being in the presence of God’s people can often change my mood from one of stubbornness to one of rejoicing.
I believe that we were designed to “live in community” and when that community is functioning as it should, “loving one another as ourselves”, “in honor, preferring one another”, “rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep” it is a glorious experience and we can’t help but add our list of things to be thankful for.
In the presence of God’s people, especially when they are rejoicing from their heart, eventually my mood changes from one of stubbornness to one of thankfulness.
Ethan and I each have a lot to learn about being thankful; rehearsing around the table at least gets us started.
What are you thankful for this day?
We were seated around the dinner table and, following the routine set a couple of years ago, we were going around the table and saying what we were thankful for that day, before we began eating.
It was the day after Christmas and Ethan had received his share of wonderful and thoughtful gifts, several of which met the requests stated in his letter to Santa. He had just been with his father’s family, where he is loved and gets lots of attention. Now he was with his mother’s family, where he is loved and gets lots of attention. In front of each of us sat plates filled with some of our favorite foods of the season; second helpings waited on the buffet.
“Can’t you think of anything to be thankful for?” Again, complete silence, this time accompanied by a stubborn look that told the rest of us, he was NOT going to respond. I don’t know where he gets that streak of stubbornness. Certainly NO ONE in OUR family has that tendency!
His grandmother (me) found the incident just a bit amusing. His grandfather’s look said ‘let’s just move on.’ His father was a bit disconcerted that his son could think of nothing to be thankful for in the midst of such plenty. His mother’s look told me she knew he was a bit tired from several days of high energy.
And still there was silence.
Sometimes, I have to admit, I feel a bit like Ethan. I try to start each day with some time talking to my heavenly Father. I have an ever changing list of things I talk to Him about concerning many of my friends, my family, and my own personal list.
But there are some mornings when I just don’t feel like praying.
Some days the list feels overwhelming.
Some days the list feels so repetitive. I have a friend who sometimes begins his prayer with, “God, you must get tired of hearing the same requests time after time.”
And once in awhile, I am just feeling stubborn and I just don’t want to talk to God.
The amazing thing is that He is ever patient with me. He waits until I am ready. God is ever ready, even if I am not. David tells us “Each morning you listen to my prayer, as I bring my requests to you and wait for your reply. “ Psalm 5:3
There was a pause as we waited for Ethan to respond. And that stubborn look became more and more pronounced.
Then someone else said what they were thankful for, and we went on around the table. There has been so much to be thankful for, in spite of the economic times. Perhaps we are more grateful because we are more conscious of our gifts during these tougher times.
Eventually we circled back around to Ethan and without a pause he joined us with his own list of things to be thankful for. We always end this time of spoken thankfulness with a hearty AMEN and then dig in to the food.
Like Ethan, sometimes I need to hear the thoughts of others before my heart is ready to chime in with my own list. Most of us can be feeling very sorry for ourselves…until we hear the troubles of others and then we have to send up a word of thanks that our own troubles are so small.
But also like Ethan, being in the presence of God’s people can often change my mood from one of stubbornness to one of rejoicing.
I believe that we were designed to “live in community” and when that community is functioning as it should, “loving one another as ourselves”, “in honor, preferring one another”, “rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep” it is a glorious experience and we can’t help but add our list of things to be thankful for.
In the presence of God’s people, especially when they are rejoicing from their heart, eventually my mood changes from one of stubbornness to one of thankfulness.
Ethan and I each have a lot to learn about being thankful; rehearsing around the table at least gets us started.
What are you thankful for this day?
Exuberant Joy
They arrived right from a 4 year-old birthday party in Chicago which might explain part of it, but Ethan was filled with exuberant joy almost his entire recent visit.
He was filled to overflowing with happiness; he was with four of his favorite adults. Of course, having four adults paying attention to you most of the time might have had something to do with it too.
There were moments when it seemed he couldn’t contain his joy and he would throw his head back, as only four year olds can do, and crow with happiness and excitement.
His joy filled me with happiness. I wanted to throw my head back and crow too. His energy, running all over the yard helping Grandma weed, or gathering grass and pine needles to “build us a nest” energized me as well.
It was about then that the other adults cautioned us to “settle down” and reprimanded Grandma for getting Ethan too excited.
One of the memories I want Ethan to have about coming to Grandma and Grandpa’s is that this is a place where he can be free to express himself with joy. I want him to be able to crow with excitement, but I also understand the need for boundaries.
Later that weekend we all went to the County Fair and watched the demolition derby. I don’t know why this so appeals to sedate, normally somewhat inhibited Bill and me, but we love to watch these old wrecks crash into each other. We yell ourselves hoarse, we laugh with uninhibited loudness right along with everyone else in the stands.
At first Ethan was worried that the drivers would get hurt, but after his daddy explained how the cars had been modified to make them safe, he yelled and laughed right along with the rest of us. Once again he was filled with joy.
When we left the stands later that day, we were tired but it was that good tired from freely expressing ourselves for a few hours.
I can’t help but contrast that day with one just a week or so earlier when Bill and I had gone to a Christian concert. I had anticipated an opportunity to express joy, to be able to let out my emotions without the usual restraint, but it never happened. The performers (usually exuberant) seemed to be too tired (perhaps too many days on the road) and the audience was quieter and more subdued than we expected. Oh some people tried to express themselves, but it seemed forced and artificial to me.
God created us with the full range of emotions and I suspect He longs for us to express them all. Some of my best “quiet times” with Him are when I let my emotions loose. Times when I can cry from either deep sorrow or deep joy. Times when I can laugh from deep within because I cannot contain my joy and delight. I think God even wants us to rage from time to time, and then be open to His teaching us the way out of our rage.
My times of uninhibited emotion with God are all too few. They can’t be artificial; God only wants the real thing. Too often I hear the voices telling me to “settle down”, to not get “too excited”. While there is certainly a time and a place for our free expression, I need to find those safe places where I can be alone with God and express myself, just to Him.
May all of you find a place of uninhibited joy this week.
He was filled to overflowing with happiness; he was with four of his favorite adults. Of course, having four adults paying attention to you most of the time might have had something to do with it too.
There were moments when it seemed he couldn’t contain his joy and he would throw his head back, as only four year olds can do, and crow with happiness and excitement.
His joy filled me with happiness. I wanted to throw my head back and crow too. His energy, running all over the yard helping Grandma weed, or gathering grass and pine needles to “build us a nest” energized me as well.
It was about then that the other adults cautioned us to “settle down” and reprimanded Grandma for getting Ethan too excited.
One of the memories I want Ethan to have about coming to Grandma and Grandpa’s is that this is a place where he can be free to express himself with joy. I want him to be able to crow with excitement, but I also understand the need for boundaries.
Later that weekend we all went to the County Fair and watched the demolition derby. I don’t know why this so appeals to sedate, normally somewhat inhibited Bill and me, but we love to watch these old wrecks crash into each other. We yell ourselves hoarse, we laugh with uninhibited loudness right along with everyone else in the stands.
At first Ethan was worried that the drivers would get hurt, but after his daddy explained how the cars had been modified to make them safe, he yelled and laughed right along with the rest of us. Once again he was filled with joy.
When we left the stands later that day, we were tired but it was that good tired from freely expressing ourselves for a few hours.
I can’t help but contrast that day with one just a week or so earlier when Bill and I had gone to a Christian concert. I had anticipated an opportunity to express joy, to be able to let out my emotions without the usual restraint, but it never happened. The performers (usually exuberant) seemed to be too tired (perhaps too many days on the road) and the audience was quieter and more subdued than we expected. Oh some people tried to express themselves, but it seemed forced and artificial to me.
God created us with the full range of emotions and I suspect He longs for us to express them all. Some of my best “quiet times” with Him are when I let my emotions loose. Times when I can cry from either deep sorrow or deep joy. Times when I can laugh from deep within because I cannot contain my joy and delight. I think God even wants us to rage from time to time, and then be open to His teaching us the way out of our rage.
My times of uninhibited emotion with God are all too few. They can’t be artificial; God only wants the real thing. Too often I hear the voices telling me to “settle down”, to not get “too excited”. While there is certainly a time and a place for our free expression, I need to find those safe places where I can be alone with God and express myself, just to Him.
May all of you find a place of uninhibited joy this week.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Words, Words, Words...
“But, Mommy, you said I could….”
“Ethan, I want you to…”
“But, Mommy, that doesn’t make sense….”
I sat below the balcony of our time-share condo and listened as my four year old grandson argued using logic to convince his mother that he should not have to do what she wanted him to do.
“My word (pun intended)”, I thought, “if he can use words like he does now to try to persuade his parents to see things his way, what will he be like at 12?”
And then it struck me! I had a sudden flash, a snapshot of what the boy Jesus must have been like.
Remember the story in Luke of the 12 year old boy Jesus who stayed behind on the family’s annual trip to Jerusalem to discussing Scripture with the teachers? They were “amazed at his understanding and his answers”. I suspect the boy Jesus loved words as well.
Can you imagine being Jesus’ mother? I imagine that conversations with her son left her amazed and probably exhausted as well.
By the time the boy Jesus becomes a man, words become His trademark. Just as He did as a boy, He amazes all who listen to him. He speaks with wisdom, not as the scribes and Pharisees. He uses words to heal, words to teach about the kingdom, words to tell about His father.
Ethan loves words. Life with Ethan is a litany of non-stop words from the moment he awakens until he goes to bed at night, with a brief pause for a nap.
He loves the sound of new words, and he always wants to know their meaning… and then he tries them out. He loves the sound of words, but even more he loves the way he can use words to describe things, to define his conversation, to enhance his word pictures.
He comes by this interest naturally. Both his parents earn their living using words. His grandpa was/is a wordsmith. His aunt and his grandma use words pretty effectively as well.
Words - the use of words - is one of the things that separates us from all other forms of life. Many animals communicate with sound, but only humans have this breadth and depth of communication. We use words to describe, to define, to enhance.
Remember what John says when he introduces Jesus, the Christ? John calls Him the Word made flesh. Jesus is the Word of God.
Jesus is God defined. He is God articulated. He is the Word picture of God become man.
As we move through the Thanksgiving season we use words to express our thanks. Sometimes we don’t feel very thankful, but during this season most of us summon up the words to at least sound thankful. And sometimes the sound of our own words reminds us to really be thankful.
Soon we move into the season to anticipate and celebrate God become man. God articulated. The Word become flesh.
As we enter this season of celebration may we hear in a new way the words of God. May we come to understand better God described in the person of Jesus.
“Ethan, I want you to…”
“But, Mommy, that doesn’t make sense….”
I sat below the balcony of our time-share condo and listened as my four year old grandson argued using logic to convince his mother that he should not have to do what she wanted him to do.
“My word (pun intended)”, I thought, “if he can use words like he does now to try to persuade his parents to see things his way, what will he be like at 12?”
And then it struck me! I had a sudden flash, a snapshot of what the boy Jesus must have been like.
Remember the story in Luke of the 12 year old boy Jesus who stayed behind on the family’s annual trip to Jerusalem to discussing Scripture with the teachers? They were “amazed at his understanding and his answers”. I suspect the boy Jesus loved words as well.
Can you imagine being Jesus’ mother? I imagine that conversations with her son left her amazed and probably exhausted as well.
By the time the boy Jesus becomes a man, words become His trademark. Just as He did as a boy, He amazes all who listen to him. He speaks with wisdom, not as the scribes and Pharisees. He uses words to heal, words to teach about the kingdom, words to tell about His father.
Ethan loves words. Life with Ethan is a litany of non-stop words from the moment he awakens until he goes to bed at night, with a brief pause for a nap.
He loves the sound of new words, and he always wants to know their meaning… and then he tries them out. He loves the sound of words, but even more he loves the way he can use words to describe things, to define his conversation, to enhance his word pictures.
He comes by this interest naturally. Both his parents earn their living using words. His grandpa was/is a wordsmith. His aunt and his grandma use words pretty effectively as well.
Words - the use of words - is one of the things that separates us from all other forms of life. Many animals communicate with sound, but only humans have this breadth and depth of communication. We use words to describe, to define, to enhance.
Remember what John says when he introduces Jesus, the Christ? John calls Him the Word made flesh. Jesus is the Word of God.
Jesus is God defined. He is God articulated. He is the Word picture of God become man.
As we move through the Thanksgiving season we use words to express our thanks. Sometimes we don’t feel very thankful, but during this season most of us summon up the words to at least sound thankful. And sometimes the sound of our own words reminds us to really be thankful.
Soon we move into the season to anticipate and celebrate God become man. God articulated. The Word become flesh.
As we enter this season of celebration may we hear in a new way the words of God. May we come to understand better God described in the person of Jesus.
Telling Grandma What To Do
Ethan and his parents stayed with us recently.
It was one of those lovely spring afternoons when the temperature was just right. There was a gentle breeze, the birds were just fledging their first crop of babies and deciding if the nest could be used again, or if a new one had to be built.
We four adults and one exuberant four year old moved onto the patio behind our condo and were enjoying a rare time of just relaxing, visiting, and enjoying the spring around us.
For awhile Ethan and I were playing at being robins and were gathering nesting material from the edge of the field behind us and piling it up under the tree where our “nest” was. He was having a great time running all over the place pulling dead grass from the edge of the field, gathering dried needles from under the pines and looking for other material that would make a good nest. Soon his “playground” voice was calling out, “Grandma, here is some good material for our nest. Grandma, come over here and help me get this material.” He explained to me why each handful of material would be good our “our nest”.
When he grew tired of being a bird he decided we should do some weeding. We got Grandpa’s new dandelion weeding tool, a weed bucket and began searching the yard for dandelions, and even more important thistles, to dig up. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it did not take him long to find many plants to remove and soon his shrill voice could be heard, “Grandma, come and dig this one. Grandma, here’s another one to dig.” We zigzagged all over the yard with Grandma using the pronged tool and Ethan filling the bucket.
After awhile I grew tired and told my little slave driver that I was going to take a rest with the other adults on the patio. He could keep looking for weeds to dig out and when I was rested we could continue.
When I joined Becki, John and Bill at the table I told them I didn’t know which of the many fields of interest Ethan would choose for his life’s work, but I knew he was going to be a supervisor!
Becki gently told me that I didn’t have to let Ethan boss me around so much. And I assured her that I don’t always let him boss me around. But it is a Grandma’s privilege to let him be in charge when it is appropriate and building nests today was a time appropriate.
Does God let us “boss” Him around? We certainly try.
Listen the next time you are in a place where group prayers are being offered and listen for how many times God is “told what to do”. Listen the next time you pray.
Along those same lines listen for all the times we, WE, tell someone else what God wants for them!
I think we are often as bossy with God as Ethan is with me.
God is even more patient with us than I am with Ethan. Scripture says He never slumbers nor sleeps, I think that also means He never gets tired as we humans do. But we are also told in the Old Testament that He wearied of the Israelites complaining, He wearied of their not keeping Him first in their lives. He wearied of them telling Him what they were going to do, rather than asking what He wanted them to do.
Just as there are times when Ethan has to be reminded that the adults in his life really do know what is best and he needs to respect and obey their directives, I need to be reminded that God knows what is best for me.
Our reminders to Ethan are to help him grow into a strong, healthy, wise and caring adult. God’s reminders to me are for all the same reasons and even more.
Some days I think God indulges me, maybe even with some amusement, building my “nests”, but when the time is appropriate, He disciplines me and reminds me that letting Him be in charge is best.
It was one of those lovely spring afternoons when the temperature was just right. There was a gentle breeze, the birds were just fledging their first crop of babies and deciding if the nest could be used again, or if a new one had to be built.
We four adults and one exuberant four year old moved onto the patio behind our condo and were enjoying a rare time of just relaxing, visiting, and enjoying the spring around us.
For awhile Ethan and I were playing at being robins and were gathering nesting material from the edge of the field behind us and piling it up under the tree where our “nest” was. He was having a great time running all over the place pulling dead grass from the edge of the field, gathering dried needles from under the pines and looking for other material that would make a good nest. Soon his “playground” voice was calling out, “Grandma, here is some good material for our nest. Grandma, come over here and help me get this material.” He explained to me why each handful of material would be good our “our nest”.
When he grew tired of being a bird he decided we should do some weeding. We got Grandpa’s new dandelion weeding tool, a weed bucket and began searching the yard for dandelions, and even more important thistles, to dig up. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it did not take him long to find many plants to remove and soon his shrill voice could be heard, “Grandma, come and dig this one. Grandma, here’s another one to dig.” We zigzagged all over the yard with Grandma using the pronged tool and Ethan filling the bucket.
After awhile I grew tired and told my little slave driver that I was going to take a rest with the other adults on the patio. He could keep looking for weeds to dig out and when I was rested we could continue.
When I joined Becki, John and Bill at the table I told them I didn’t know which of the many fields of interest Ethan would choose for his life’s work, but I knew he was going to be a supervisor!
Becki gently told me that I didn’t have to let Ethan boss me around so much. And I assured her that I don’t always let him boss me around. But it is a Grandma’s privilege to let him be in charge when it is appropriate and building nests today was a time appropriate.
Does God let us “boss” Him around? We certainly try.
Listen the next time you are in a place where group prayers are being offered and listen for how many times God is “told what to do”. Listen the next time you pray.
Along those same lines listen for all the times we, WE, tell someone else what God wants for them!
I think we are often as bossy with God as Ethan is with me.
God is even more patient with us than I am with Ethan. Scripture says He never slumbers nor sleeps, I think that also means He never gets tired as we humans do. But we are also told in the Old Testament that He wearied of the Israelites complaining, He wearied of their not keeping Him first in their lives. He wearied of them telling Him what they were going to do, rather than asking what He wanted them to do.
Just as there are times when Ethan has to be reminded that the adults in his life really do know what is best and he needs to respect and obey their directives, I need to be reminded that God knows what is best for me.
Our reminders to Ethan are to help him grow into a strong, healthy, wise and caring adult. God’s reminders to me are for all the same reasons and even more.
Some days I think God indulges me, maybe even with some amusement, building my “nests”, but when the time is appropriate, He disciplines me and reminds me that letting Him be in charge is best.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
God's Perspective
“Don’t get me any more books, Grandma,” Ethan directed me on his last visit. “I have too many books.”
I can understand his sentiment. Some Children’s Centers would be overwhelmed to receive all his books - good books, excellent books. There is everything from Hop on Pop by Dr. Seuss to a cookbook with excellent photographs of all of Ethan’s favorite vegetables.
I confess, however, that my heart sank just a bit at this pronouncement. I like to shop for books for Ethan. I anticipate sharing with him some of my favorites and discovering new favorites yet to come. In fact, I already have a stack of books in my closet anticipating the day when he will be old enough for each of them.
Books are important to me. They are important to Bill. They are an integral part of Becki’s and John’s and Aunt Deb’s lives. I wouldn’t say we can’t live without books, but life would be a lot less enjoyable with no reading material to escape into, to learn from, tomake us think and wonder and often debate.
Later that day I hesitantly offered Ethan the cute book I’d bought at the library book sale. He accepted it graciously and later in the day assured me he liked his new book.
I suspect that Ethan is sated with too many books for 3 year olds.
I am pretty certain he will be ready for books for 4 year olds, and books for 8 year olds, and books for 12 year olds, when the time comes. But he isn’t ready for them yet.
Perhaps we have overwhelmed him with too many books.
Fortunately all of us will keep looking for those great books that will teach him and whet his appetite for more. Fortunately we also know better than Ethan right now and we won’t quit just because he is sated for the moment.
Do we ever tell God, “Enough of this good thing! I am full up, overwhelmed with your generosity”?
Perhaps not directly, but I think we often do when we ignore His gifts at the end of a beautiful summer with more pleasant days than unpleasant. How many of us hear people remembering such a summer with, “It was too hot!” “There was too much rain!” “It was so dry!”
Or we complain that we are overweight – because we have too many good things to eat (ouch!)
We complain that our taxes are too high – because our income is too great.
We complain that we’re bored with our wardrobes, our house décor, our car model – because we have more than we need.
I have several friends who talk about their “cumber” and how to get rid of it. They are encumbered with too much stuff. “Please, God” they in effect say, “don’t give me anymore. I have too much already.”
Fortunately God doesn’t listen to us. He already has more to give us just waiting on His shelf for the right time. Days filled with light and moments of revelation. I’m glad He knows better than I do when to give me His good gifts.
For Ethan, this might be a good time to sort through all those books, perhaps some need to be put away for awhile and then taken out when they will be fresh and “new” again. Perhaps some of the books for 2 year olds need to be packed up and given away (actually, they do that regularly) and some books need to be left on the shelf because we never know when we will need to reference them again.
For me, there is a time to sort and pack up and give away what I don’t need anymore. But some of my stuff and some of my experiences need to be packed away so I can take them out again later when they will be fresh and new. And some things needs to be “left on the shelf” because I never know when I might need to reference it again.
I can understand his sentiment. Some Children’s Centers would be overwhelmed to receive all his books - good books, excellent books. There is everything from Hop on Pop by Dr. Seuss to a cookbook with excellent photographs of all of Ethan’s favorite vegetables.
I confess, however, that my heart sank just a bit at this pronouncement. I like to shop for books for Ethan. I anticipate sharing with him some of my favorites and discovering new favorites yet to come. In fact, I already have a stack of books in my closet anticipating the day when he will be old enough for each of them.
Books are important to me. They are important to Bill. They are an integral part of Becki’s and John’s and Aunt Deb’s lives. I wouldn’t say we can’t live without books, but life would be a lot less enjoyable with no reading material to escape into, to learn from, tomake us think and wonder and often debate.
Later that day I hesitantly offered Ethan the cute book I’d bought at the library book sale. He accepted it graciously and later in the day assured me he liked his new book.
I suspect that Ethan is sated with too many books for 3 year olds.
I am pretty certain he will be ready for books for 4 year olds, and books for 8 year olds, and books for 12 year olds, when the time comes. But he isn’t ready for them yet.
Perhaps we have overwhelmed him with too many books.
Fortunately all of us will keep looking for those great books that will teach him and whet his appetite for more. Fortunately we also know better than Ethan right now and we won’t quit just because he is sated for the moment.
Do we ever tell God, “Enough of this good thing! I am full up, overwhelmed with your generosity”?
Perhaps not directly, but I think we often do when we ignore His gifts at the end of a beautiful summer with more pleasant days than unpleasant. How many of us hear people remembering such a summer with, “It was too hot!” “There was too much rain!” “It was so dry!”
Or we complain that we are overweight – because we have too many good things to eat (ouch!)
We complain that our taxes are too high – because our income is too great.
We complain that we’re bored with our wardrobes, our house décor, our car model – because we have more than we need.
I have several friends who talk about their “cumber” and how to get rid of it. They are encumbered with too much stuff. “Please, God” they in effect say, “don’t give me anymore. I have too much already.”
Fortunately God doesn’t listen to us. He already has more to give us just waiting on His shelf for the right time. Days filled with light and moments of revelation. I’m glad He knows better than I do when to give me His good gifts.
For Ethan, this might be a good time to sort through all those books, perhaps some need to be put away for awhile and then taken out when they will be fresh and “new” again. Perhaps some of the books for 2 year olds need to be packed up and given away (actually, they do that regularly) and some books need to be left on the shelf because we never know when we will need to reference them again.
For me, there is a time to sort and pack up and give away what I don’t need anymore. But some of my stuff and some of my experiences need to be packed away so I can take them out again later when they will be fresh and new. And some things needs to be “left on the shelf” because I never know when I might need to reference it again.
No More Books
…“Don’t get me any more books, Grandma,” Ethan directed me on his last visit. “I have too many books.”
I can understand his sentiment. Some Children’s Centers would be overwhelmed to receive all his books - good books, excellent books. There is everything from Hop on Pop by Dr. Seuss to a cookbook with excellent photographs of all of Ethan’s favorite vegetables.
I confess, however, that my heart sank just a bit at this pronouncement. I like to shop for books for Ethan. I anticipate sharing with him some of my favorites and discovering new favorites yet to come. In fact, I already have a stack of books in my closet anticipating the day when he will be old enough for each of them.
Books are important to me. They are important to Bill. They are an integral part of Becki’s and John’s and Aunt Deb’s lives. I wouldn’t say we can’t live without books, but life would be a lot less enjoyable with no reading material to escape into, to learn from, tomake us think and wonder and often debate.
Later that day I hesitantly offered Ethan the cute book I’d bought at the library book sale. He accepted it graciously and later in the day assured me he liked his new book.
I suspect that Ethan is sated with too many books for 3 year olds.
I am pretty certain he will be ready for books for 4 year olds, and books for 8 year olds, and books for 12 year olds, when the time comes. But he isn’t ready for them yet.
Perhaps we have overwhelmed him with too many books.
Fortunately all of us will keep looking for those great books that will teach him and whet his appetite for more. Fortunately we also know better than Ethan right now and we won’t quit just because he is sated for the moment.
Do we ever tell God, “Enough of this good thing! I am full up, overwhelmed with your generosity”?
Perhaps not directly, but I think we often do when we ignore His gifts at the end of a beautiful summer with more pleasant days than unpleasant. How many of us hear people remembering such a summer with, “It was too hot!” “There was too much rain!” “It was so dry!”
Or we complain that we are overweight – because we have too many good things to eat (ouch!)
We complain that our taxes are too high – because our income is too great.
We complain that we’re bored with our wardrobes, our house décor, our car model – because we have more than we need.
I have several friends who talk about their “cumber” and how to get rid of it. They are encumbered with too much stuff. “Please, God” they in effect say, “don’t give me anymore. I have too much already.”
Fortunately God doesn’t listen to us. He already has more to give us just waiting on His shelf for the right time. Days filled with light and moments of revelation. I’m glad He knows better than I do when to give me His good gifts.
For Ethan, this might be a good time to sort through all those books, perhaps some need to be put away for awhile and then taken out when they will be fresh and “new” again. Perhaps some of the books for 2 year olds need to be packed up and given away (actually, they do that regularly) and some books need to be left on the shelf because we never know when we will need to reference them again.
For me, there is a time to sort and pack up and give away what I don’t need anymore. But some of my stuff and some of my experiences need to be packed away so I can take them out again later when they will be fresh and new. And some things needs to be “left on the shelf” because I never know when I might need to reference it again.
I can understand his sentiment. Some Children’s Centers would be overwhelmed to receive all his books - good books, excellent books. There is everything from Hop on Pop by Dr. Seuss to a cookbook with excellent photographs of all of Ethan’s favorite vegetables.
I confess, however, that my heart sank just a bit at this pronouncement. I like to shop for books for Ethan. I anticipate sharing with him some of my favorites and discovering new favorites yet to come. In fact, I already have a stack of books in my closet anticipating the day when he will be old enough for each of them.
Books are important to me. They are important to Bill. They are an integral part of Becki’s and John’s and Aunt Deb’s lives. I wouldn’t say we can’t live without books, but life would be a lot less enjoyable with no reading material to escape into, to learn from, tomake us think and wonder and often debate.
Later that day I hesitantly offered Ethan the cute book I’d bought at the library book sale. He accepted it graciously and later in the day assured me he liked his new book.
I suspect that Ethan is sated with too many books for 3 year olds.
I am pretty certain he will be ready for books for 4 year olds, and books for 8 year olds, and books for 12 year olds, when the time comes. But he isn’t ready for them yet.
Perhaps we have overwhelmed him with too many books.
Fortunately all of us will keep looking for those great books that will teach him and whet his appetite for more. Fortunately we also know better than Ethan right now and we won’t quit just because he is sated for the moment.
Do we ever tell God, “Enough of this good thing! I am full up, overwhelmed with your generosity”?
Perhaps not directly, but I think we often do when we ignore His gifts at the end of a beautiful summer with more pleasant days than unpleasant. How many of us hear people remembering such a summer with, “It was too hot!” “There was too much rain!” “It was so dry!”
Or we complain that we are overweight – because we have too many good things to eat (ouch!)
We complain that our taxes are too high – because our income is too great.
We complain that we’re bored with our wardrobes, our house décor, our car model – because we have more than we need.
I have several friends who talk about their “cumber” and how to get rid of it. They are encumbered with too much stuff. “Please, God” they in effect say, “don’t give me anymore. I have too much already.”
Fortunately God doesn’t listen to us. He already has more to give us just waiting on His shelf for the right time. Days filled with light and moments of revelation. I’m glad He knows better than I do when to give me His good gifts.
For Ethan, this might be a good time to sort through all those books, perhaps some need to be put away for awhile and then taken out when they will be fresh and “new” again. Perhaps some of the books for 2 year olds need to be packed up and given away (actually, they do that regularly) and some books need to be left on the shelf because we never know when we will need to reference them again.
For me, there is a time to sort and pack up and give away what I don’t need anymore. But some of my stuff and some of my experiences need to be packed away so I can take them out again later when they will be fresh and new. And some things needs to be “left on the shelf” because I never know when I might need to reference it again.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Why, Why, Why?
We were sitting in a local ice cream shop enjoying great decadence. I watched a young mother introducing her 18 – 24 months old daughter to the joys of ice cream.
The child watched her mother spoon the dripping, gooey stuff into her mouth, close her eyes, savor it for a moment and then swallow. Then the mother put a small amount on the spoon and reached toward the child who opened her mouth, baby bird like, and tasted the ice cream offered to her.
The child shivered slightly as the cold sweetness began to melt on her tongue. You could almost see her processing this presumably new food and deciding whether or not she wanted to add it to her list of favored foods. She must have decided “yes” because she edged closer to the table and leaned her little head forward anticipating another tiny taste.
My thoughts flew backward to the previous week and a visit from Ethan and his continuous litany of “whys”. He is at that age…when a child can eventually drive every adult within a certain proximity to insanity with the constant repetition of “why”.
Being a grandmother I can take one step back and watch the process between my daughter or my son-in-law and their child.
I remember that process when I was a young mother and getting to that exasperated point when you want to (or do) blurt, “because I said so” or “because it is!”
Now I can remain detached enough to see that the entire world is new to a child. Some of their “whys” are genuine because they don’t know why the street has to be dug up before it can be blacktopped again. They don’t know about germs and why we have to wash our hands so often. They don’t fully comprehend the needs of our bodies and why we have to go to bed at a certain time.
I watched Becki and John patiently (most of the time) answer Ethan’s “why”, followed by another “why”, followed by another “why”. It suddenly struck me that his little mind (little but still so awesome) is growing each day. He is constantly taking in information, processing it, adding much of it to the memory of that wondrous computer we call a brain. But he is young enough that there is always another “why”.
At the same time, while Bill and I are amazed at what his brain can retain (he can tell you the correct names of ALL of the streets they must travel to get from their house in Chicago to Grandma and Grandpa’s) I suddenly realized that there are a whole lot of things he doesn’t know and we would not dream of telling him. He knows NOTHING of politics, even though this is a big part of the news right now. He is learning a lot about fruits, veggies and even fungi, but he hasn’t a clue about genetics (yet). He can tell you the names and destinations of all of the elevated trains in Chicago, but he couldn’t tell you the name of a single constellation.
He is rapidly learning about the world around him, but that world is still confined and controlled mostly by the adults who care about him.
As he is able, Becki and John introduce new ideas, new books, new conversations into his world and his knowledge and understanding grow. There are still an endless number of “whys”, but the scope of the whys is ever changing.
And so it is with us and God. We too, in our own way, at least many of us, are forever asking God “why”.
“Why did this happen? Why do I feel this way? Why didn’t you answer that prayer, or at least answer it the way I asked? Why do people treat each other the way they do? Why can’t other intelligent people see life the way I do?” Well, you get the picture.
Does God ever get tired of our “whys”? Because I often think of God in human terms, I suspect He gets tired when it is the same “why” over and over. There certainly seem to be times in Scripture when he says to various people, “because I said so”.
But most of the time God is so patient with us. Answering our “whys” in a great variety of ways. Sometimes He asks us to wait till we “are a little older” and can understand it all better.
I can imagine if that little girl at the beginning of this story had asked her mother “why should I taste this new food? ” her mother might have answered, “Just taste it, trust me, just taste it, you’ll like it.” Sometimes I think God says that to us as well, “trust me, it will all turn out for your good. You’ll like it.”
The world in which Ethan lives is bigger than he can imagine; there is so much more for him to wonder about, so much more to learn. His grandpa prays every day that Ethan will never lose his wonder. Too many of Bill’s students (especially in the later years) seemed to have lost their wonder. But the adults who care about Ethan carefully shield him from what he is not ready for or capable of learning just yet.
Our world, God’s world, is also beyond our comprehension. Like a perfect parent God knows what we are capable of understanding and only exposes us to what we can learn today. We have hints of the more that there is to learn, but He only unfolds that as we are ready.
As a student of Scripture, and a student of this world, I am amazed at how I keep learning year after year. I was pretty certain when I finished Bible School that I knew it all. Each of you also understands that you know less and less the older you get. That’s because you realize there is ever so much more to know, to learn, to understand.
I find the unfolding of Ethan’s mind a great delight. Every time I see him I am amazed at how much more he “knows”, how much more he understands. I am so honored that I can participate in his teaching process; that I get to answer at least a few of the “whys”.
I think God too wants us to be filled with wonder. Wonder not just about Scripture, but all of life. I think He wants us to be asking a continuous stream of “whys”. Not the same “whys” over and over, but ever new “whys” based on our growing comprehension of who He is and His creation – all of it.
When we ask a new “why”, He also expects us to stop and listen to His answer, to think about it and when we’re ready, ask the next “why”.
When we are ready, God answers our “whys”. And once in awhile He says, “just trust me, you’ll like it.”
The child watched her mother spoon the dripping, gooey stuff into her mouth, close her eyes, savor it for a moment and then swallow. Then the mother put a small amount on the spoon and reached toward the child who opened her mouth, baby bird like, and tasted the ice cream offered to her.
The child shivered slightly as the cold sweetness began to melt on her tongue. You could almost see her processing this presumably new food and deciding whether or not she wanted to add it to her list of favored foods. She must have decided “yes” because she edged closer to the table and leaned her little head forward anticipating another tiny taste.
My thoughts flew backward to the previous week and a visit from Ethan and his continuous litany of “whys”. He is at that age…when a child can eventually drive every adult within a certain proximity to insanity with the constant repetition of “why”.
Being a grandmother I can take one step back and watch the process between my daughter or my son-in-law and their child.
I remember that process when I was a young mother and getting to that exasperated point when you want to (or do) blurt, “because I said so” or “because it is!”
Now I can remain detached enough to see that the entire world is new to a child. Some of their “whys” are genuine because they don’t know why the street has to be dug up before it can be blacktopped again. They don’t know about germs and why we have to wash our hands so often. They don’t fully comprehend the needs of our bodies and why we have to go to bed at a certain time.
I watched Becki and John patiently (most of the time) answer Ethan’s “why”, followed by another “why”, followed by another “why”. It suddenly struck me that his little mind (little but still so awesome) is growing each day. He is constantly taking in information, processing it, adding much of it to the memory of that wondrous computer we call a brain. But he is young enough that there is always another “why”.
At the same time, while Bill and I are amazed at what his brain can retain (he can tell you the correct names of ALL of the streets they must travel to get from their house in Chicago to Grandma and Grandpa’s) I suddenly realized that there are a whole lot of things he doesn’t know and we would not dream of telling him. He knows NOTHING of politics, even though this is a big part of the news right now. He is learning a lot about fruits, veggies and even fungi, but he hasn’t a clue about genetics (yet). He can tell you the names and destinations of all of the elevated trains in Chicago, but he couldn’t tell you the name of a single constellation.
He is rapidly learning about the world around him, but that world is still confined and controlled mostly by the adults who care about him.
As he is able, Becki and John introduce new ideas, new books, new conversations into his world and his knowledge and understanding grow. There are still an endless number of “whys”, but the scope of the whys is ever changing.
And so it is with us and God. We too, in our own way, at least many of us, are forever asking God “why”.
“Why did this happen? Why do I feel this way? Why didn’t you answer that prayer, or at least answer it the way I asked? Why do people treat each other the way they do? Why can’t other intelligent people see life the way I do?” Well, you get the picture.
Does God ever get tired of our “whys”? Because I often think of God in human terms, I suspect He gets tired when it is the same “why” over and over. There certainly seem to be times in Scripture when he says to various people, “because I said so”.
But most of the time God is so patient with us. Answering our “whys” in a great variety of ways. Sometimes He asks us to wait till we “are a little older” and can understand it all better.
I can imagine if that little girl at the beginning of this story had asked her mother “why should I taste this new food? ” her mother might have answered, “Just taste it, trust me, just taste it, you’ll like it.” Sometimes I think God says that to us as well, “trust me, it will all turn out for your good. You’ll like it.”
The world in which Ethan lives is bigger than he can imagine; there is so much more for him to wonder about, so much more to learn. His grandpa prays every day that Ethan will never lose his wonder. Too many of Bill’s students (especially in the later years) seemed to have lost their wonder. But the adults who care about Ethan carefully shield him from what he is not ready for or capable of learning just yet.
Our world, God’s world, is also beyond our comprehension. Like a perfect parent God knows what we are capable of understanding and only exposes us to what we can learn today. We have hints of the more that there is to learn, but He only unfolds that as we are ready.
As a student of Scripture, and a student of this world, I am amazed at how I keep learning year after year. I was pretty certain when I finished Bible School that I knew it all. Each of you also understands that you know less and less the older you get. That’s because you realize there is ever so much more to know, to learn, to understand.
I find the unfolding of Ethan’s mind a great delight. Every time I see him I am amazed at how much more he “knows”, how much more he understands. I am so honored that I can participate in his teaching process; that I get to answer at least a few of the “whys”.
I think God too wants us to be filled with wonder. Wonder not just about Scripture, but all of life. I think He wants us to be asking a continuous stream of “whys”. Not the same “whys” over and over, but ever new “whys” based on our growing comprehension of who He is and His creation – all of it.
When we ask a new “why”, He also expects us to stop and listen to His answer, to think about it and when we’re ready, ask the next “why”.
When we are ready, God answers our “whys”. And once in awhile He says, “just trust me, you’ll like it.”
Monday, April 13, 2009
Unless You Become Like a Little Child
I lay on the futon in our lower level waiting for sounds from upstairs. I was savoring those last few moments before the day really began.
It was about
There were the usual sounds – the refrig turning off and on, the water pipes making their soft clanging, a little creak here and a soft groan there as the house shifted and settled. But I was waiting for a special sound. I was waiting for seven zero zero when Ethan was allowed to come out of his room and the day would really begin.
Ethan and his parents (our daughter Becki and our son-in-law John) had arrived the day before for a half week vacation with Grandma and Grandpa.
As he has done the last several visits, Ethan went right into “his room” to check to see that everything was in order. To see that Grandma’s birds (and therefore his as well) were still on the shelves and the dishes of interesting acorns, seed pods and pine cones were still nestled among the (artificial) pine boughs. Satisfied that everything was where he had last left it, he bounded into the living room.
He had greeted both Bill and me with an enthusiastic “We’re here” as soon as they arrived; now he wanted to know what “we are going to play with this time, Grandma?”
I had brought up a bag of blocks, his bag of “real working” tools and a few other things. He glanced at those things, and then looked around the room again.
“Your bowl of fruit is still on the shelf over there.” I told my three year old grandson. He bounded over to the baker’s rack and carefully pulled the basket of artificial apples, pears, banana, and grapes, with a couple of real dried oranges thrown in, off the shelf. He carried it to the open area in front of the couch and dumped it onto the carpet. Then he ran to the basket of birdhouse gourds and added them to the pile.
“Grandma, let’s go downstairs and see what else you have for me to play with.”
As we reached the top of the steps, Ethan looked back into the living room of adults watching this scene play out and announced, “Just Grandma and me. I want to go downstairs with only Grandma.”
As I lay there waiting for Ethan sounds I was remembering with delight the joys of yesterday. The utter joy he expressed when we opened Grandma’s “Fall” box and he was allowed to carry upstairs the basket of yet more dried gourds, and the sprays of artificial berries and acorns. I remembered the enchantment of his imagination as he “cut up” his fruits and veggies with the plastic knife I gave him and made all sorts of exotic dishes which he served to any adult who would participate.
When we went outside to enjoy the cool of the patio, Ethan exclaimed with joy that the fish were still in the pond, looked at all the flowers growing and pulled all the weeds that Grandma pointed out to him.
At bedtime he wanted Grandma to help him with his bath, Grandma to read him the first story. Grandpa was allowed to dry him off and allowed to read him the second book.
As I lay on the futon I laughed out loud and then wiped a tear as I remembered the several times when Ethan would suddenly stop in the midst of play, look up at me and say, “I love you Grandma. I love you very much.”
And then it struck me. This is exactly what God wants from us. This is (at least in part) what it means to become like a little child.
God longs for us to be excited about being with Him again. He wants us to exclaim with wonder at the creation He has put all around us. He wants us to want to be with “just Him”, telling Him every little thing that is on our minds. He delights when we look up and just say, “I love you, I love you very much.”
No fancy buildings that we have to be in, no intricate service that we have to participate in, no ritual that must be followed. Just unbridled, uncomplicated joy at being in His presence. Simplicity, uncluttered, childlike.
No doubt Ethan’s relationship with us will become more complicated as his own life becomes more complicated. That’s just what happens. But…
The most wonderful, the most beloved person I can ever think of was my own grandmother. She always had time for me, even when she was very busy, I was allowed to “help” her sew and “help” her make a pie, or weed, or dust. I just wanted to be with her, to be in her presence and she honored that.
I don’t know if I learned great truths from my Grandmother, but I certainly learned about unconditional love and acceptance and the joy of just simply being with that person you felt safest with.
All of my life I have hoped, longed for, prayed that I could someday be a grandma like my grandma. To my great joy and deep delight God seems to be allowing this wish to become true.
As Ethan’s life becomes more complex, and it will even this next year, I hope that these times of just being with Grandma become embedded in his memory to be pulled out when he needs them.
I hope he will continue to burst into joy when he gets to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I hope he will always, even when life gets tumultuous and unsettled, think of our home as a place of refuge and acceptance.
And I hope, beginning even now, Ethan will see God, at least a part of God, as the loving father he sees in Grandpa and the nurturing mother he sees in Grandma.
And finally, because of Ethan, my own relationship with God has taken a step backward! Yes, backward, back to that place where I just delight in being in His presence. That place where I can exclaim with delight at the creation He has surrounded me with (for at least a time not worrying about Global Warming etc.), to be able to ask Him why 100 times and then some and be content with His answers, and to spontaneously just look up and say, “I love you, I really love you.”
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