Today's Special

 

On a recent Saturday morning, one of our daughters was helping out a friend at a farmers' market. The counter in the booth was heavily laden with all manner of luscious baked goods, all of which would rapidly be purchased in just a couple hours.

That particular morning, the special of the day consisted of fragrant loaves of focaccia, one type with potato and thyme, one with fresh tomatoes, and yet another stack with figs and rosemary. Needless to say, the aroma lingered in the marketplace, and no big surprise, the loaves sold out quickly.

My husband and I also just spent the last few days of summer break, helping out with four of our grandkids.  To set the stage for the morning, I asked our ten-year -old granddaughter to decide what was today's special, what was her specialty for the day? Use kind words? Get along with the boys? And she and her brothers started reciting (and singing) the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5. 22-23:  Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. 

We don't have to limit ourselves to just one. 

It is not for us to just seek out how to fill the hours before us or how to manage the traffic jam of our responsibilities, but who to be today.  On what can we focus as a through line in this day: to be kind, attentive, or perhaps, faithful in the trenches? We cannot forecast what the day may bring, but we can respond with something different.

Not determining what sensational concoction we can make of this mess, but how to bless others and honor God.  How to seek out and pursue being joyful or loving in these circumstances, attentive to need, or exercising self-control in this situation. What is my specialty today?  

May we go intentionally into the day, ready to pivot around the potholes, be flexible when things don't go as we would want them, creative in the moment, not dwelling on "if I only had this or that," but seizing what we do have to make something beautiful.  Even if  five barley rolls and two fish are all that occupy our proverbial pantry. John 6. 9

There are no ordinary days -- only if we face them that way.  God never intended for us to miss the wonders that He has placed all around us. Or the opportunities. A hard thing may actually be a grace.  Choose this day whom you will serve...as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.  Joshua 24. 15

What should we intentionally infuse into this day that God has graciously given?  Not just what we are going to do, but how we are going to approach and navigate what is before us.  God is not going to demand, "Do this, do that," like an impersonal army commander, but asks us intimately, "What do you see? What do you have here?" Mmmmm, I have a lump of dough, a few potatoes and some thyme. Whatever it may be. 

Not just choosing Today's Special, but realizing Today Is Special, because God created it.  

This is the day which the LORD has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.  Psalm 118. 24 

Now watch how God can use us. 

 

A Pocket of Time

A couple of our grandkids are staying with us this week.  After a morning of hiking and a tailgate lunch at the trailhead yesterday, a  pocket of time in the afternoon lay ahead of the kids and me.  My husband had a business meeting for an hour or so.

It is so easy when those pockets of time appear to fill them with the ordinary, indeed to just fill up the time.  Or we can seek to do something a little differently -- or approach that time with a different heart, a new attitude, a new direction for the commonplace.

I feel like through this past year, too often, I just filled up time instead of taking advantage of it.  Filling or fulfilling is not just in our power to do, but in our attitude toward it.

I was going to take the kids to a local playground for an hour, which I knew they would enjoy.  Or I could take the moment for something a little different.  We packed up the car with some old towels, plastic tubs, and an old colander, and went down to a branch of a little river near us.  The kids played in the cool water, walking among the slippery rocks, scooping up minnows, and exploring the river bank.  

We did not just spend an hour there, but invested a memory.

In almost every day, whether an hour or just a few minutes, God places a pocket of time before us.  Will we let it get nibbled away?  Or let Him guide us into it?

Am I so wrapped up in the ordinary, that I don't see the extraordinary?

Sing to the LORD

    a new song...

          Psalm 149. 1

Harvesting the crop

Two large black bags are stuffed in the garbage can at our daughter's house, filled with withering plants, the last vestiges of dirt clinging to their shallow roots. Yesterday, my daughter and I spent a sweaty afternoon together, talking, laughing, and harvesting the remains of her garden, mostly wilted and overgrown at this point.  Her garden was fargone, ready for a season to rest.

We saved the green pepper plants as they were still struggling to produce, but the remainder of the garden was ready for summer to be over.  Gangly and unruly tomato plants  hung over their wire cages, tired and bored.  A few ripening tomatoes were rescued, which we lined up on her outside table to redden on their own.  The lettuce and squash plants produced nothing all season, just taking up space.  The okra plant stood tall and barren, a few large woody pods clinging useless on the stalk. And a late starting poblano pepper plant grasped the chicken wire fence as if trying to compete in a race long over.  Weeds had begun to creep in from the edges.

It was Hannah's first attempt at a garden, her first opportunity to have a yard outside her window instead of a steamy asphalt parking lot. And so, in the dirt lining her back walkway, she planted a variety of vegetables, surrounding the plants with chicken wire to keep her dog from digging them up and planting cheery yellow marigolds on the perimeter to discourage the neighborhood rabbits.

We enjoyed peppers and fresh tomatoes all summer as she had more than she could possibly use.

She learned a lot this summer about what works best and how to provide enough space to grow.  There will be another garden next year filled with new plants, fresh possibilities, and lots of experience.

But had she not planted, there would have been no crops at all and only weeds.  She planted.  She watered.  And God gave the growth.

She really didn't know what to expect, but she planted as best she knew how.  And God redeemed her efforts.

What am I sowing?  What actions, what words, and the biggest crop of all -- my attitudes?  That which produces fruit or weeds?

That which is fruitful doesn't just come up on its own.

The point is this:
he who sows sparingly
    will also reap sparingly,
and he who sows bountifully
will also reap bountifully.
       
                 2 Corinthians 9. 6

Each day,
each relationship,
every opportunity,
        is a tender garden
for His glory.

Excuse me a minute. I have some seeds to sow
and some weeds to pull.

What our four-year-old grandson taught me at the Nashville Zoo

Several weeks ago now, three of our grandchildren joined us for a week while our daughter and son-in-law packed for a big move.

We definitely got the best end of that bargain.

And when joined by our two in-town grandchildren, there was a rollicking crew.

On their last day here, we took the kids on that sweltering afternoon to the Nashville zoo.  Each of the children took turns riding in the stroller as we examined flamingos, observed the giraffes striding along on their graceful legs, and combed the goats fur with large plastic brushes.

As we passed the concession stand, strategically placed halfway through the zoo, the kids cried out, "We're hungry!" Out of my bag of tricks, I pulled out their water bottles, a sleeve of graham crackers, and some apple sauce pouches. Although we were surrounded by colorful signs advertising Slushies, popcorn and other such delights, the kids gladly consumed the snacks I brought with us. When I handed out the apple sauce pouches, our oldest granddaughter asked if she could have one too. I dug down to the bottom of the bag.  There was not another.  As I said, "I'm so sorry, sweetie," her four year old brother Howie turned and willingly shared his pouch with her.  As I was putting the baby back in the stroller, I looked up.  People were silently watching that unusual and deliberate act of kindness.

After the zoo, we traveled across town to their cousin's first birthday party.  On the way, my husband asked the kids about their favorite animal that afternoon.  At first, Howie said the giraffes, but then looked rather serious for a few minutes, as if he was contemplating another.

Suddenly from the back seat came his little voice, "I would have liked to have had some cotton candy," he stated, "but I am grateful that I will have cake at the party." 

My heart stopped at the profound words of this little child.  His heart's desire did not revolve on the elusive things he did not have, but the reality of what he did. It was not a resigning voice of "oh, well," but an all-strengthening voice of contentment.  Coveting is a revolving door that never stops.  Contentment redeems everything.

Not that I complain of want,
for I have learned,
in whatever state I am,
         to be content.

                   Philippians 4.11

He indeed had cake at the birthday party, a huge vanilla cupcake with sprinkles, but his spontaneous words in the car that afternoon kept reverberating in my thoughts in the days that followed.

When I had the opportunity, I asked our daughter Beth, "Who taught him that?" after I related the story to her.

"I don't know," Beth said. "He has been saying that a lot lately." 

Two days after they left, in my morning Bible reading, I read in the Scriptures a verse about the dangers of complaining.

 "...nor grumble,
as some of them did
and were destroyed by the Destroyer."     
             
                      1 Corinthians 10.10

And while I was running that morning, despite the warning of the verse, an unruly crowd of discontented  thoughts joined me on my run.  As my trail passed through fields and woods, it became obvious to me that grumbling is a certain destruction, a pattern of behavior that solves nothing and sure doesn't make you feel any better at all.

Quite suddenly, slicing through my thoughts came Howie's little voice piping up from the backseat.  I repeated them to myself.  "I would have liked to have had _______, but I am grateful for _______."

I filled in the blanks.  And God filled up my heart.

The antidote to discontentment
                     is not more dissatisfaction.
 The solution to grumbling
                     is not to complain even more.
But the pivotal point in turning away from any greed
is a grateful heart.

It changes how we see everything.

Sometimes we just need to fill in the blanks
                with a different heart.

I know how to be abased,
and I know how to abound,
in any and all circumstances
      I have learned
      the secret of facing plenty and hunger,
            abundance and want.
I can do all things in Him
      who strengthens me.

                        Philippians 4. 12-13

Last Week of Summer

It is a hot and muggy day.  This morning as I checked the weather, it was an incredible 96 percent humidity.  Summer is waning fast.

A sweet friend Julie texted me this morning, "This is the last week of summer," before the kids go back to school.  "I am determining today to take any chance that comes my way to laugh with my kids."

I texted her back, "As they say in Chicago about voting, laugh early and often."

"And take them to get Slushies.  The bluer the better."

For those who have a week left (or more), I am republishing a post from 2011 entitled "Bored With Nothing To Do."  Because that is when the real FUN begins.



Bored – Nothing To Do! is a delightful picture book about two brothers who undertake an adventure on a summer day when there was “nothing to do.”  I was reminded of it last night when I read an article  in the Wall Street Journal focused on a new “underserved” marketing niche:  boys 6 to 11 years old.  Why?  Because, “boys watch more animated series than girls and represent a lucrative sales opportunity for videogames, toys and sports merchandise.”  Put into a nutshell:   it is the middle of summer, there are A LOT of kids passively watching a screen in front of them, and they are bored to death.

Boredom seems to reign supreme in this new generation of kids.  And that is a shame.  Children of this generation – boys and girls alike – are so pre-programmed, over-scheduled, and pushed, even in the earliest months, that “spare time” is filled with a bizillion channels of cable tv, endless video games, DVD players even in the SUV, and i-pads to soak up every bit of their remaining attention.

Addictive behaviors begin early.  And so does a lack of creative initiative.  Indeed, a couple of years ago, when I was taking care of a friend’s children, her kids were excited to find Lego’s in the toy closet.  They quickly became frustrated, though, trying to follow the pre-planned instructions, and began squabbling over the pieces.  “You know,” I interrupted, “You don’t have to follow the directions.  You can make ANYTHING you want.”

“We can?” they replied, incredulous.

The next two hours flew past, each of the kids building and rebuilding the “best rocket ship ever,” and the “best fighter jet ever,” and the “best castle ever,” from the pile of tiny plastic pieces.  And they GLOWED when their mom came, so proud of what they had made.  Their faces, in turn, fell when their mom replied, “Ok, time to pick up the toys.  We need to go.”

The next time they came, the oldest child made cookies with me.  For the first time ever.
One summer in Kansas City when our girls were elementary and middle school age, we challenged them to not watch tv for the entire summer.   It was like they were released from jail.   They put on plays in the basement, they ripped up the sideyard playing with a Slip N Slide that they bought for a quarter at a garage sale, they rode bikes to the neighborhood pool, and one of them started a “mold garden” under her sink to “see what happens.”  They figured out how to sew simple things for their American Girl dolls using scraps of cloth and yarn…and much to his horror, constructed outfits for our dog Jack.  Each of the girls had “mud clothes” and an old pair of shoes for exploring the undeveloped field behind our house.  And that summer began their adventures in cooking--with recipes and without –a pursuit that continues to this day as adults in their own kitchens.
 
Quite frankly, they made a big mess.
And they had the time of their lives.

When the summer ended, tv wasn’t even mentioned until November.   C. S. Lewis was once asked how he developed such a vivid imagination.  He replied that he and his brother were left with large amounts of time on their hands.  Creativity took over from there.

Our oldest daughter Beth, now the mother of two small children, has a wise friend who advised her, “You have 18 summers with your kids.  That’s it.  Make the most of that time.”
So tonight, let them pitch a tent in the backyard and sleep under the stars.  Let them come up with ideas for supper…and make it.   Let them run through the sprinklers in the yard, and draw with colored chalk on the driveway, and make forts with pillows and quilts in the family room, and research and plan a family outing somewhere in, let’s say, a 100 mile radius of home.  And yea, they WILL get dirty.  They might even have so much fun you will have to throw out their clothes.  They can film their own movies or create a video scavenger hunt or play Capture the Flag at dusk.  You may even discover latent talents in them.  As a poor Brooklyn kid back in the Great Depression, my father built a miniature golf course in their tiny yard – and made money with it.  He charged a few clothes-pins a game, and then sold them back to the neighborhood moms on laundry day.

And when it comes time for your kids to write the perennial essay What I Did On My Summer Vacation, your kids will smile at the thought of it.  “You wouldn’t believe…”
Let them make it the “best summer ever.”   It’s not too late.

What I did on my summer vacation

I did not wear a watch this week.
I left my cell phone behind.
And when we finally got home last night,
    I found 691 unread and neglected emails
           still waiting to be opened,
           jostling in line like unruly children.
What did I miss?
Nothing at all.
     I relished in the freedom of being untethered.

I cannot remember when I have had this much fun.


My cup overflowed this week.
With the exception of one day last summer,
we had not been all together as a family
               in almost four years.

This mama's heart was so full,
   it is incredible I could even
   zip my suitcase closed.

Even watching our two-year-old

         grandson eating his breakfast cereal
  -- each bite surrounded by questions,
          why?  what dat called? --
     oh, so precious,

      and etched in my memories forever.

I breathed in the grace
of being with our four grown daughters 
      talking and walking
      and making meals
               all crowded in the kitchen
                       at the same time.
I watched our sons-in-law
      as daddies loving well their children
      and as husbands loving well our girls.

We laughed outloud.
We ate ice cream almost every night.
I watched Howie jump with two-year-old excitement
         and my heart did the same.
At almost six months,
       baby Adrian will remember none of this
       but know through the years
             how much he is loved.
At the supper table one night,
         in the middle of a meal,
    our three-year-old granddaughter Maggie
 leaned over
               and asked,
    "Even when I am grown up,
        will you still be my gramma?"
Oh, sweetie.  Indeed.
Always and forever.

We took family pictures --
            the best souvenir of all --
     just an image captured
             to remember this
         for the rest of our lives,
                  a precious and rare gift.
I lay in bed at night,
     unable to sleep
      just for the sheer joy
                 knowing everyone was here.

Shrink-wrapped and Priced to Sell

One of my neighbors plants her vegetable garden in the front of her house, along the sidewalk where a large number of children pass by as they walk to school.  Her purpose is two-fold.  It is partly because of the ravenous red squirrels who have established totalitarian control of our backyards.  Nothing is sacred to them.  There is no defense against their scheming minds.  In fact, I believe, they actually enjoy the challenges we place in their paths.  (Exhibit #1:  my bird feeder)

My neighbor's other reason for her tastefully arrayed vegetable garden -- indeed  a work of art -- is to reveal truth to the school children who will pass that way hundreds of times in the course of the school year.  "So they will know where vegetables really come from," she once explained to me.  Fruit and vegetables do not suddenly and mysteriously originate shrink-wrapped at the grocery.  They are intentionally planted, nurtured, weeded, fertilized, and harvested by farmers.  There is a lot of time, sweat and work involved.  It is an incredible process.  And it doesn't just happen.

I see the children in springtime, watching the seeds planted and the tiny seedlings coming up through the soil.  I have noticed the children during the summer, whizzing past on their scooters and bikes, glancing at the growing plants and sometimes unrecognizable vegetables.  ("What is THAT???" I heard one little boy ask his mom).  As the vegetables grow over the course of the season, I even see the boys, girls, and their parents stop and point out what is now apparent, watching as if they can see the growth day by day.  Always, there is a sunflower or two towering overhead, those which appear to grow six inches a day.

By mid-August when school begins again, there is an amazing arrangement of vegetables, sometimes a hidden zucchini as long as your arm.  Every year as autumn progresses, the children watch with excitement the pumpkins grow and ripen.  And the birds flock to the nodding heads of the sunflowers which provide seeds for months to come.

Whenever I have the opportunity to spend time with our own young grandchildren, I intentionally point out the splendor of nature -- the sun, moon, the light show of stars, the tiny little handprints of the raccoon, the birds of many colors and their special songs, and the brilliance of trees in all seasons.  On their last visit, we discovered even along the asphalt driveway, tiny little wild strawberries.  Imagine that, strawberries not in a plastic box!

I want them to know where these things come from.  They are not just there, but designed and nurtured by God, the Creator of the Universe, maker of heaven and earth and you.  There was a lot of imagination and power involved.   These wonders that surround us on all sides did not just happen.  Nature is just one of the ways God reveals Himself to us, just one of the ways we know who He is.

And what only He can do.

For thus says the LORD,
who created the heavens
(He is God!),
who formed the earth and made it,
(He did not create it a chaos,
He formed it to be inhabited!):
"I am the LORD,
and there is no other."

                         Isaiah 45.18

What Doesn't Make Sense, And Yet...

It is the height of the summer.   The plants push against each other like children at recess.  What was once a cultivated bed of seedlings equally spaced has taken on a life of its own, creating a jungle without the lines of apparent design.  By this time, the garden should be laden with fruit.

Instead it is almost dead, the leaves yellowing, and vines now brown and limp.  The once-tall stalks which vied for attention appear like the hands of students raised in class -- "me, me, call on me" -- now lay lifeless on the ground as if the last breath has been stomped out of them.

Even the young buds of new vegetables are stunted and shriveled.   Some plants have been violated by bugs, the smooth skins of peppers and tomatoes marred, holes left in the pale jackets of beans,  every possible blossom consumed, leaving only disappointment behind.

The sprouts, the plants, even the seeds had looked so promising in spring.  But what desolation has happened here?  Not enough water, too much water, not enough fertilizer, or too much.  Everyone has a theory, the weather, the heat, or "just a bad year," said with a resounding sigh.  No one knows.

But yet, I have seen wild plants flowering out of sheer rock and entire trees flourishing where they should not even exist, and still they thrive.  What is their secret strength, what kind of stubbornness redeemed for glory?  And I know people too who dance to hidden tunes and dare to possess gentle floods of secret joy.

They are those whose story has been changed, those who cannot help but bear fruit even in a barren place, those who stand beyond explanation but rooted fully in grace.  And they thrive with a strength that is not their own.  They love hilariously, manifest impossible fruit, and know what Resuurection means.

"Live in such a way that one's life would not make sense if God did not exist," wrote Cardinal Emmanuel Celestine Suharto, archbishop of Paris, 1940-1949.

We can live that way,
we cannot help but live that way,
   because God is not if,
           God is.

Though the fig tree do not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will joy in the God of my salvation.
GOD, the Lord, is my strength;
He makes my feet like hinds' feet,
He makes me tread
                upon my high places.

                             Habakkuk 3. 17-19

(This posting was adapted from my journal, an entry dated August 8, 1998).

Bored With Nothing To Do

Bored – Nothing To Do! is a delightful picture book about two brothers who undertake an adventure on a summer day when there was “nothing to do.”  I was reminded of it last night when I read an article  in the Wall Street Journal focused on a new “underserved” marketing niche:  boys 6 to 11 years old.  Why?  Because, “boys watch more animated series than girls and represent a lucrative sales opportunity for videogames, toys and sports merchandise.”  Put into a nutshell:   it is the middle of summer, there are A LOT of kids passively watching a screen in front of them, and they are bored to death. 
Boredom seems to reign supreme in this new generation of kids.  And that is a shame.  Children of this generation – boys and girls alike – are so pre-programmed, over-scheduled, and pushed, even in the earliest months, that “spare time” is filled with a bizillion channels of cable tv, endless video games, DVD players even in the SUV, and i-pads to soak up every bit of their remaining attention.
Addictive behaviors begin early.  And so does a lack of creative initiative.  Indeed, a couple of years ago, when I was taking care of a friend’s children, her kids were excited to find Lego’s in the toy closet.  They quickly became frustrated, though, trying to follow the pre-planned instructions, and began squabbling over the pieces.  “You know,” I interrupted, “You don’t have to follow the directions.  You can make ANYTHING you want.” 
“We can?” they replied, incredulous. 
The next two hours flew past, each of the kids building and rebuilding the “best rocket ship ever,” and the “best fighter jet ever,” and the “best castle ever,” from the pile of tiny plastic pieces.  And they GLOWED when their mom came, so proud of what they had made.  Their faces, in turn, fell when their mom replied, “Ok, time to pick up the toys.  We need to go.”
The next time they came, the oldest child made cookies with me.  For the first time ever.
One summer in Kansas City when our girls were elementary and middle school age, we challenged them to not watch tv for the entire summer.   It was like they were released from jail.   They put on plays in the basement, they ripped up the sideyard playing with a Slip N Slide that they bought for a quarter at a garage sale, they rode bikes to the neighborhood pool, and one of them started a “mold garden” under her sink to “see what happens.”  They figured out how to sew simple things for their American Girl dolls using scraps of cloth and yarn…and much to his horror, constructed outfits for our dog Jack.  Each of the girls had “mud clothes” and an old pair of shoes for exploring the undeveloped field behind our house.  And that summer began their adventures in cooking--with recipes and without –a pursuit that continues to this day as adults in their own kitchens.  
Quite frankly, they made a big mess.
And they had the time of their lives. 
When the summer ended, tv wasn’t even mentioned until November.   C. S. Lewis was once asked how he developed such a vivid imagination.  He replied that he and his brother were left with large amounts of time on their hands.  Creativity took over from there. 
Our oldest daughter Beth, now the mother of two small children, has a wise friend who advised her, “You have 18 summers with your kids.  That’s it.  Make the most of that time.”
So tonight, let them pitch a tent in the backyard and sleep under the stars.  Let them come up with ideas for supper…and make it.   Let them run through the sprinklers in the yard, and draw with colored chalk on the driveway, and make forts with pillows and quilts in the family room, and research and plan a family outing somewhere in, let’s say, a 100 mile radius of home.  And yea, they WILL get dirty.  They might even have so much fun you will have to throw out their clothes.  They can film their own movies or create a video scavenger hunt or play Capture the Flag at dusk.  You may even discover latent talents in them.  As a poor Brooklyn kid back in the Great Depression, my father built a miniature golf course in their tiny yard – and made money with it.  He charged a few clothes-pins a game, and then sold them back to the neighborhood moms on laundry day.
And when it comes time for your kids to write the perennial essay What I Did On My Summer Vacation, your kids will smile at the thought of it.  “You wouldn’t believe…”
Let them make it the “best summer ever.”   It’s not too late.

Don't Miss Summer: Have You Played Today?

Play should be an important component of summer. I miss seeing kids playing in their yards, riding bikes, drawing in chalk on the driveway, and getting dirty playing with trucks in the mud. One of our girls once purchased a slip n’ slide for a quarter at a garage sale. The girls and their friends just about tore up the lawn on the side of our house in Kansas City playing with it by the hour. And as Bill would explain to the neighbors, “We’re raising kids, not grass.”

Everything today seems so shrink-wrapped for kids, pre-packaged with step by step instructions and pictures of how it should look. Guaranteed not to make a mess. I was once watching a friend’s children while she went to a meeting. Her children were playing with some old Legos that we still have, trying to build something from the little guidebook and getting rather frustrated that they couldn’t find the right pieces. “Well, you can make anything you want,” I suggested. “We can?” they said incredulously. That prompted almost two hours of incredible construction on the floor of our playroom.

Where are the muddy boys who play all afternoon in the creek catching frogs and capturing fireflies at night in old mayonnaise jars?
Where are the castles in the living room made of cushions, old bedspreads and every pillow in the house? Or forts in the backyard created from old refrigerator boxes?
Or “inventions” devised of old string and spools and dowel rods from the garage. Children’s bedrooms should be decorated with interesting rocks and maps and model airplanes made of balsa wood, and other things made of glue and old paint. Let them imagine. And if they make a mess, so be it.

Nostalgia aside, play is good for kids. Stuart Brown, a physician and director of the National Institute for Play (no, I did not make this up), says that in one of his studies, he observed play-deprivation in homicidal young men. Featured recently on National Public Radio, Brown says that play nurtures trust, promotes enthusiasm for learning, prevents violence, lessens stress, develops the capacity for problem solving, and invigorates the body. (And you thought it was just a waste of time). None of the murderers that he has studied had ever engaged in normal rough-and-tumble play.

And if it does that for kids, so much more for adults.

Why is play so important? I think because it is a component of life that God has hard-wired into our souls. Laughter and enjoyment. Sometimes we forget what they are. Last weekend, my husband Bill went for a long bike ride in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. He was waiting for me to pick him up at a shelter at the conclusion of his ride. A man started to talk to Bill, curious about the bike and his outfit. The first thing he said was, “What are you training for?” “Life,” Bill replied.

Why is play important? Because it is part of the restoration of the world. In Scriptures, God paints a picture of the world restored. “And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in the streets.” (Zechariah 8.5) ‘Cause that’s the way it ought to be.

Don’t miss summer. And ask your kids every night, “Did you play enough today?”
You too.

Don't Miss Summer

This is just a first in a new series called,
"Don't Miss Summer." Hope that you make the most of these summer months. They are an investment in your life and the lives of those around you. For the first installment, I have included a guest blogger, my husband Bill with some of his recent thoughts.

6-12-2009

I had a nice 40 mile ride on Little River Rd. in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. As I was riding I saw families in and out of their cars taking pictures, fishing and playing in the river. Coming down out of Cades Cove, I caught up to a car and kept up with it for a mile or two at 35 miles per hour. Two boys stuck their heads out the windows, pointed and took pictures of me.


It reminded me of our own adventures with the girls when they were little; camping from Cades Cove in eastern Tennessee to Glacier National Park in northwest Montana. They got so dirty at times two baths weren’t enough and they made the Tide kids on the commercial look clean. We simply threw their clothes away on more than one occasion. They wore out their anoraks glissading down glaciers in the Rockies. They climbed trees, unconcerned with the rain that fell drenching them to the skin. They got way too close to poisonous snakes and skunks and bears and bison, but so did I. We fished in Yellowstone Lake until our fingers and toes could stand the cold no longer, and then we fished some more. We swam in the icy snowmelt waters of String Lake in the Tetons. We competed at roasting marshmallows even though we all knew Laura would have the best.


And we laughed and made stories for many trips to come.