They arrived late and I was already wilted in the way a woman does after full days of dishes and cleaning and tending and loving and listening and giving.
The dog didn’t want to let them in. Stranger men with bags his raised fur and tightened tail said. We put him in the laundry room.
We invited in, toured home, chatted lightly and took them to their room – Camp Stinky Foot, the boys’ room – freshly mopped, scrubbed and Frebreezed.
I gathered details of their lives as I stayed in motion to stay awake.
One from Dallas. One from Iowa. Another from Dallas by way of Minnesota.
I heard the brief stories of nick names like T.P. and Toadly and Pin-toe-chio. I took in their actions and laughter with the children who eyes lit as if suddenly charged by an outlet.
So many were talking at once, pontificating with their feathers of accomplishment as is done to garner praise and attention, telling of their details worthy, extraordinary to bridge the gap in minutes. I watched and listened to all make connection.
Only one laid back, the one most like me, watched, weighed & measured before engagement. And I watched these men, boys of 19 and 20, with my mother’s eyes, draw him out with question and game. Then glow with him.
And I listen while pouring coffee, heading to the shower, to the words of joy “Lucky Charms! I love Lucky Charms!” and the sleepy laughter and spar that comes from men, who are filled with that child abundant joy.
I hear the word “Glorious” and I hear the word “Feast” and I hear the words “Bag of Splendor” used to describe the road food of tootsie roll pops and gummy worms and trail mix given. I hear the silly stories of “Pine Cove can’t jump.” I hear the loneliness for dog and mother and field. I hear the torment of children who weren’t reached. I hear Jesus and God mentioned because it’s normal and familiar not because it’s formed to impress like hard metal stamp.
And I wonder at the prayers prayed before arrival for goodness for us to give, for comfort for us to give, for us to somehow fill them as they briefly pass. Please just enough for us to give so they can give the awe and love of God to others.
I wonder because I am so surprised and I don’t understand because I am filled and comforted and given more than words describe by their fleeting presence.
And what of our children, I wonder, in that way that compares and contrasts to provide way not ridicule or judgment. Will they mention the names God and Jesus tenderly, intimately, as if saying Grammy or Dad? Do I mention these names silently spoken with step aloud enough with the same emotion? Is there more word or world in each of our children?
Driving long hours alone, I lift question high into cut cliff side because I don’t know. Again I offer the children I am gifted because I am so small and not much and I don’t understand. I pray for strength to show them through lip and step the complete glory of God, the surrender to Him, the beauty and worth given by Him alone. I pray they each have eyes that see like we say before eating – “Thank you for our eyes that see” – that it’s not rhetoric. I pray for real. I pray that at nineteen each will delight in Lucky Charms and warm beds and call themselves blessed, giving all to Him in hope.
“We will not hide these truths from our children
but will tell the next generation about the glorious deeds of the Lord.
We will tell of His power and the mighty miracles He did.
So each generation can set its hope anew on God,
remembering His glorious miracles and obeying His commands.”~ Psalm 78:4,7 NLB
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Posted in community with Karen. Please visit for other takes on this quote or to join in.
We were thinking the same way on this quote friend. I pray my kids “catch” my faith. I pray I show Him clearly.
And btw, do these Pine Cove missionaries you speak of come out of Pine Cove Camp in Tyler, TX? If so, you’ll never believe this, but our niece’s husband is the camp director there and two other nieces work there. Is it the same organization?
Big smiles! Yes, we were on the same thought thread!
And yes, Pine Cove in Tyler TX. Funny, but I do believe. There are no coincidences.
And I would love to play cards with you at midnight.