Hi Friends,
If I’m honest, I probably didn’t expect what I saw.
It had been quite a 24 hours. Joel developed severe appendicitis while at men’s retreat last weekend on Saturday. A doctor attending the retreat examined him and said, “you’re going to hospital now.” At 2:00 on Sunday morning, he was in surgery and his appendix was removed. By 1:30 that afternoon, I was loading him into his vehicle and driving him back to Calgary.
We passed Rachel and the kids on their way to church just as I was getting ready to drop Joel at home. The kids were all glad to see their Dad but also had somewhat worried looks on their faces. I dropped Joel off, got him settled somewhat (mostly kept his wildly welcoming dog from jumping on him when he was more than a bit tender) and then took his vehicle home to my place. Later that evening, when Rachel was home, I took the vehicle back.
While there, I decided to greet my grandkids (that’s part of the fun of being a grandpa) and Rachel told me that I’d find them out back of the house. I went around the side and, even before I saw them, I could hear them — shouting, laughing — having a great time. There they were, all four, in the trampoline enclosure with a soccer ball, jumping, flopping and merrily carrying on. Though it was early evening and cooling off noticeably, Davis had his shirt off. When his Mom asked where his shirt was, he said, “I want to be bare belly!” as if that was all the explanation needed. All the looks of concern were gone and play was the order of the day.
That happened two days ago and I’ve been thinking two things since then. The first is from the psalms of ascent: “How blessed it is when brothers (and in this case, “a sister”) dwell together in unity. Unity, whether among siblings of the flesh or siblings of the Spirit, is a beautiful thing to observe. It has a profoundly positive witness and is, in and of itself, amazingly attractive. I couldn’t help but go to the trampoline and engage the kids in their fun.
The second thing I’ve thought about is how unworried and carefree the kids were. Their dad was resting, pale, wearing three bandages where the arthroscope had been inserted, and looked like he had a pink belly due to the sterilizing solution that had been poured all over his torso. Yet, Dad was home, in his bed, available to them (likely despite his pain), and all was right with the world. Their childlike faith was secure in the knowledge that their father was with them. They could play and be carefree.
So, now that I’ve invited you into my meditative recollection, let me ask you two pointed questions. First, are you a person who promotes unity by engaging or a person who wrecks unity by putting yourself, your projects, your perspective first? Second, does the joy and freedom of a secure child characterize your life? Your Father is always present, always loving, always pruning you to make you what he made you to be. You get to choose to live in that freedom, rest, and peace, or you can choose to depend on someone or something else.
Blessings!
Doug