I took 3 of my children and our babysitter to church the other night and my oldest daughter requested something to write on and with during the service. All too happy to oblige, I provided paper and pen. Quite possibly she was going to take notes, study and apply it to her life.
I read her notes following church and with her permission I would like to share what she wrote using her own sentence structure, spelling and unique note taking style...
Caverley Capel is big ^^^
Pastor Bob is the pastor ^^^
Thier symbol is a bird ^^^
Close friends will tell you if you have bad breath ^^^
The cross is purple tonight ^^^
Is raining hard ^^^
(She drew a flower) Thats a flower ^^^
me and Terra are wearing similar jeans :) ^^^
Pastor Bob is flippin verses ^^
Joshep’s Brothes are being mean ^^^
Baby are you down, down, down, down, down ^^^
School is stupid ^^^
BAM It just thundered ^^^
Pastor Bob makes wierd voices ^^^
The lights are bright in here ^^^
My tooth hurts ^^^
This is boring ^^^
I have three bracelets on ^^^
Mommy’s texting but doesn’t want me to ^^^
And Bob laughs ^^^
lets not kill him...lets sell him!
Well that not nice ^^^ LOL
Why is Joshep silent in the pit? werdo
I’d be screaming ^^^
im a tell you one time & me & U ^
Well why is that?
Shut off your cell phone dummy
My cursive sucks
hahaha. you can hear pages turning
Mommy has a page ripped out ^^^
Halabaloo ^^^ Idk???
Samatha ^ I miss her :(
Um ya soooo, Pastor Bob is being funny.
Pastor Bob looks like that skeleton character on Mario Cart ^^^LOL
The lady in front of me has a Boston Red sox hat on ^^^
Just Sayin...
Mommy faurted ^^^
Now is prayer time and exception time...
Everyone cept me is standing ^^^ 00000
I feel baaaad
“Yes. Jesus,” Mother says AMEN
Not exactly the sermon notes I might expect, yet on the other hand, in the midst of my daughter’s random thought life, funny comments, and actual events that were taking place, I think some Biblical insight was obtained. It’s probably too early to tell, and it’s probably too early to see routine action based on Pastor Bob’s sermon. Somehow in those random notes, as a mom, I see her personality, her heart and her desire to please God. I see some of her reality, I see things she has been exposed to in her life, I see her struggling, I see her memories and I see her future.
You may or may not understand such subtleties I noted. Random comments that are not so random. Like the simple comment regarding the lady wearing the Boston Red Sox hat...
It means so much more than a baseball team for our family. The Boston Red Sox represent the period in our life when we Floridians took up residency in the quaint New England town of Barrington, Rhode Island for 2 years. We experienced the culture and climate change of our lives. We also have some very fond memories of a time in the midst of an extremely difficult experience for me as an adult, mom and wife.
The Boston hat reminds us of having to drive 40 minutes away to a Cracker Barrel. A restaurant that became so much more than just a restaurant. It was a place to reconnect to our southern roots. A place to call “home.” The only place we could get sweet tea, grits, biscuits and gravy in the northeast. We treasured our trips to Cracker Barrel. They became an eager anticipation that took on a life of its own. A way to ail our homesickness, yet share together as a family.
That Boston hat represents our family trips to Boston. Sweet family trips in the blistering heat and the bitter cold. Watching a street performer named Stitch that made us laugh out loud. Stitch was no longer the cartoon partner on “Lilo and Stitch.” Stitch was now a Boston tradition embedded in our family memory bank.
That Boston hat gives us all warm fuzzy’s when we think of our trips into the city for visits to Dr. Joy. Joy she gave us, too. A pediatric dentist that made fluoride, Novocain and that awful odor seem like a trip to Disney. She had a treasure box, a fish tank, tooth fairy pillows and video games. When you walked into her office it was as if you were stepping into a make believe world. A world where it was just happy, fun and even the sound of a drill made you smile.
Seeing that Boston logo on a hat could be the visual that takes us back to another trip into the city when we visited Fenway Park. Walking up and down the stadium steps with “Tigger,” I mean Jeb, the resident tour guide Meghan, when are we going to sit down Reagan, get back here Sarah Grace, I wish we had left the stroller in the car Lily, a little slower Grandma Cookie, awestruck Caleb, a little directionally challenged Tabby. And who could forget the culmination of the day at the restaurant across from the ballpark? Sarah gave quite the almost 3 year old performance as she sang the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” doing the motions with her left hand, as she colored on the placemat with her right. Just let me say, it was worthy of “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”
If I know my daughter like I think I do, that Boston Red Sox hat speaks of a time in our family when we felt like foreigners in an unfamiliar world. A world where snow plows, snow piles, and snow days replaced our familiar sand castles, sandy floorboards and sandy beaches. The word negative was not a math term but a weather forecast. “Oprah” was viewed as the sun was setting at 4 o’clock in the afternoon and real life fairy tale swans replaced the ugly black and white Muskogee Florida ducks.
Living in New England was way out of this mom’s comfort zone. I went from an outdoorsy, social, always on the go, fashion conscious, never enough time to do it all mom; to an always at home, cooked dinner every night, got all the laundry done, sitting for hours in the sun while rocking babies, hot tea drinking, flannel pajama and wool sock wearing mom.
As my hair grew long, the winter grew long; and while enjoying the effect the cold had on my locks, I also was enjoying the effect the cold had on our family. The long, cold winter was very difficult for me personally, but with less sunlight, an almost non-existent social life, and unavoidable limitations due to the weather, gave us ample opportunity to just be together.
Reality still existed at 35 South Street, Barrington, Rhode Island. We still had drama. We still had arguments. We even had some horrible incidents. Life still carried on. I still threw up with baby number 5, just like I did with baby’s 1, 2, 3 and 4. We still had bills to pay, poopy diapers to change, and even changing addresses thousands of miles, some things remained the same.
We have always been a family that enjoyed the game of baseball. Baseball has played a part in a great majority of our memories. When I think of Fenway in Boston, or see a clip on tv, I think of the kids posing for a picture with the scoreboard as a backdrop. I think of holding Sarah and trying to keep Lily quiet as we sat in the wooden seats trying to hear the tour guide provide historical facts and sports trivia. I recall holding my breath, desperately hoping that Jeb would not jump over one of the seats and break something so famous.
I just remember smiling a lot in Boston.
I bet my daughter remembers smiling a lot in Boston.
I can not pretend to know everything my daughter thought about that night at church for 2 hours. All I get is a glimpse. As well as I know my girl, and I do know her well. I only get a glimpse that I see. In Jeremiah 17, verse 9, it reads like this: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?” Verse 10 tells us: “I, the LORD, search the heart...”
I may read her “sermon” notes and see a glimpse of her heart but the Lord, alone, is the only One who truly knows her heart. I can read those random phrases and even be pretty close at relating why she notices the Boston Red Sox hat because I have spent time in relationship with my daughter. Jeremiah tells us, though, that we do not even know our own heart. That it is deceitful. The Message Bible declares it “is a puzzle no one can figure out. But I, GOD, search the heart and examine the mind. I get to the heart of the human. I get to the root of things. I treat them as they really are, not as they pretend to be.”
Playing dress up and pretend is fun. As children pretend play it is a necessary tool to proper development. As an adult, pretending is known as having a false reality or being in denial. Denial is a sometimes needed coping mechanism to protect oneself in a dysfunctional or crisis situation in life. But just as children outgrow Barbie’s and GI Joe’s, one must outgrow the pretend games.
Some of us are living in “Candy Land,” by sugar coating our reality.
We place so little value on our finances we spend and borrow like we are in a game of “Monopoly.”
We pick and choose our values and twist the truth as if we are on a polka-dotted mat playing “Twister.”
We act out our lives, going through the motions, denying reality, only showing others what we want them to know which reminds me of “Charades.”
The Lord can read between the lines on your “sermon” notes. He knows whether you are playing with a full deck, taking out the Joker or if your time is always spent on that polka-dot mat twisting the truth. Your life is the ultimate reality show. God is the producer, writer, director and film crew. It’s both a prime time show and a syndicated re-run on TV Land.
Submit your heart to Him. He is the only One who can know it. He is the only One who knows your child’s heart. Trust Him with your heart. Trust Him with your child’s heart. This is not a game of “Life.” There is not a spinner on a board game left to chance. Your kids are not little pink or blue pegs you insert into the plastic game piece. You don’t get to roll the dice for college or pick a card to get your salary amount. Save the board games for family night. Play the real game of life by living in reality and following God’s rules.
