Lets Shake On It
"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things."
1 Corinthians 13:11 (AMP)
When I was a kid, my mom read a book series to my brother and me, The Adventures of the Sugar Creek Gang. They were fun stories of schoolboys found in all kinds of neighborhood mischief. My friends and I fancied ourselves, like that gang, floating on rafts of logs, building forts, or exploring a drainage tunnel under the street as if it were a cave. The thrill of adventure was the call of the wild in an eight-year-old heart.
But, alas, Mom had rules for boys, like cleaning rooms, taking baths, combing hair, generally doing whatever she asked. It was such a bother at the time. “Rusty, pick up your room before you go outside,” she called out from somewhere in the house. How could she tell it was my scampering feet? Dutifully, I stomped back to my room and moved things around a little. Frustrated, I considered what Tom Sawyer & Huckleberry Finn might do and I decided to run away from home. That would show her! I didn’t want to put up with the chores and bossing around all the time. But, being the good kid that I was, I told Mom I was leaving and why, figuring she’d soften up when she saw how serious I was. Her strictness was not working with me.
Instead, she looked me straight in the eyes and said, “So you’ve made your mind up, have you?” I nodded. “Ok, then,” and she thrust out her hand to shake. “Whenever you’ve lived with someone for a while and it’s time to move on, you always shake on it. A bit surprised, I reached out and gave her hand a strong shake.
“Got any idea where you’re going?” she asked.
“Naw, I’m just going to walk until I find some place,” I said.
“Well, in that case you better take something to eat with you,” and she handed me two apples. A long, confused pause ensued for me. “Well, we’ve had some good times with you, Rusty, I hope we’ll see you again sometime,” she said and moved towards and opened the screen door. Again, I wasn’t expecting such a sendoff, but with furrowed brow and determined steps I bounced down the back stairs out into the yard. When I thought no one was looking I hightailed it to the huge forsythia bush in the neighbor’s yard and slid underneath. It was my “go to” hideout that I’d used many times when playing hide and seek with my friends.
"If you, then... know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"
Matthew 7:11
And there I lay, munching on apples and feeling pretty proud of myself. I must have been there hours, but you know how time passes for a kid. I rolled around in the dirt, used my pocketknife to cut notches in the bark of the bush, watched birds hop around in the yard, unaware of my presence. I liked being hidden, seeing things, but not being seen.
After a while, mom stood on the porch, pinched fingers to lips and let out a high-pitched whistle. She was the best in the neighborhood. All Geverdts knew the signal for dinner. But I was determined to stay hidden. I wanted her to feel the loss of her eldest son. That would teach her not to ask me to clean my room, or wash my face, or a myriad of other things she forced me to do. So, I sat tight.
She whistled again a few minutes later and called out, “Dinner!” I was getting a little hungry; those two apple cores were lying a few feet away. I should have saved those for my journey, I thought.
I could see Mom as I looked through the leaves. She was probably terribly worried that I hadn’t turned up, yet. Yep, I was sure she was sorry for bossing me around. I’ll wait a little longer to make her sweat.
One last time she came out, now facing in my general direction, calling, “We’re having fried chicken!”
Fried chicken? I loved Mom’s fried chicken. And, right then, I felt compassion fill my little heart. I shouldn’t make Mom worry that her son had left the family. So, I mustered the strength to crawl out from under the forsythia and scamper back across the yard to our patio, where Mom waited.
“I’ve decided to stay for a while,” I said, sticking out my hand for a shake.
“Oh, I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “Now go wash your hands and face and get ready for dinner.” There it was again, she was bossing me around, but I guess I could take it for one more day, especially if fried chicken was involved. I could always run away tomorrow.
How often do we make childish assumptions about God when we’re bothered with His order in our lives? Perhaps talking with Him rather than acting without Him is the key.