It doesn’t work that way. I know it, you know it, but we don’t live it. What I am talking about is the way we live our lives connected to God. It’s too many years since those early days of childhood. Days of going out and doing things and just having fun. On one occasion or maybe two, we would fall and in the terror of the moment we would call out . . . You got it, “Mom.” With tears streaming down our young pudgy, ruddy face, we would look for consolation and a well place kiss. As we grew older, the calls lessened as we realized we were made of stronger stuff. Yeah, right. We didn’t want to be known as the neighbourhood cry baby.
I remember the day our family moved into a new house. Paul and I were just six and five years’ old. In actual fact I had just turned five. It was a new housing development on the west side of Hamilton Mountain. While mom, dad, and our two older sisters were working away moving our possessions, the boys went exploring. This was back in the days when parents were not paranoid about where the children were. Remember the age, it’s important and you will be tested on this next week.
Being one of the first houses of this new development there was much to explore. This was only the beginning of many years of exploring the area. We started out by looking at other building sites. The more we saw the more we wanted to explore. Eventually, and we are talking a few hours, we were standing in the middle of a stream, looking for anything that moved. The bush was being cleared for the new houses and this area with the stream was the last hold out to progress.
To say the least we were dirty, wet, walking in water filled shoes and we noticing it was starting to cool off. Coatless, we had not taken notice of where we were headed or how far we had gone. Of course we were made of tougher stuff but inside those words were welling up . . . “Mom! Where are you?” Well, we did what any young child did back then, we went up to a stranger and asked them where we lived. Yes, you read that right. We asked him where we lived.
His reply was customary for the time, “Yes I think I do.” With that he loaded us in his old car, (my first ride in a Model A) and drove us the three blocks home. It was so good to see the new house. Yelling into the air a ‘thank you’ filled with relief, and two boys went running into the new home and the security of our loving parents. They never noticed we were gone.
Today, as I write this and smile of those early simpler days, I wonder if we are made of tougher stuff? I wonder if we assume our parents are there or if God is there? I question myself and wonder if the only time that I really think I ‘need’ God is when I am lost and all alone. In the society that we are in, parents are the ones who are always watching out for their children. Kids just want to be kids. They leave the worrying up to us. You know this and so do I, ultimately and eventually we all cry out to God asking Him where He is when we feel cold, wet and all alone.
Let’s not be like many people out there only calling to God when it hurts. Let’s move in and get closer every day, and totally connected to Him.
Something to think about
Robin