Uncategorized – Page 45 – words from wick

forts…

Posted on May 19, 2014 by Wick

I’m not sure why the dots connected the way they did, in my head. Nevertheless, they did. I swelled with pride, and didn’t even know how to communicate it. I gave our 7 year old a giant hug, applauded a bit, and smiled ear to ear. I told our girls I was proud of them.

So what had they done?

They’d built a fort. Without any help from a grown-up. It used several blankets, and covered a good portion of the living room. It also contained an aspect of fort-building even I had never before attempted. Allow me to rewind a bit….

Imagine me as a high schooler. I’m hanging out with a couple of friends, and it’s really late at night. I think we’d decided to pull an all-nighter. I remember it being pretty dark outside, hours most people were sleeping, and we were full of energy. Obviously, it was the best time to build a blanket fort in the living room. His dad came out to sit in a chair and watch us. That’s right, to watch us. Not to help, but because apparently watching us was more entertaining than any other options available that night. Thinking back, I’m sure he was right. I remember several instances of heavy toys or containers that we’d set on high locations came tumbling down on our heads within the fort.

At least a year ago, maybe more, we were taking a family drive. As a snack, we passed back “Fruit Roll-Ups” to the girls. I guess we didn’t realize our girls had never had one before. Because after hearing the outer packages ripped open, a few moments passed before we heard “Moooooom!? I don’t like these.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Well, they taste good, they’re just reeaalllly chewy!!”

We laughed at ourselves as we realized our daughters didn’t know you’re supposed to unroll the flat fruit, and take out the cellophane wrapper. They’d simply removed the outer paper wrapper, and began to chew it. Needless to say, once the plastic was removed, they enjoyed Fruit Roll-Ups as much as anyone who loves chewing on sugar. Time has passed since then, and obviously they’ve matured a bit in their approach to complicated things like building a fort.

In middle school, we were required to take an elective (ironic, I know) called “PSI” (Problem Solving Instruction). I don’t remember much about it, except that obviously some people aren’t very good at dealing with challenges, and coming up with solutions. It was an easy class, filled with “what if” scenarios, and answering how we would respond to challenges. Maybe the whole joke was that, if you applied to “opt-out” of the class, they allowed you to. I didn’t.

All of that to say…my kids are great problem solvers. They continue to show a growing wisdom (Luke 2:52), and I’m proud of the young woman they’re becoming. When the blanket wouldn’t reach, she tied a scarf on, and tied the other end of the scarf to something heavy. Genius. Next time we go camping, I’m letting her set up the tent…:)

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changing streets.

Posted on May 16, 2014May 16, 2014 by Wick

I’m still getting used to it.

I grew up living most of my life on M-50. That stands for “Michigan-50”, as in a “high-way”. We had a large front lawn, so don’t imagine it so close to the road the truckers could throw their drinks at my window. But do imagine cars and trucks whizzing by at 60+ MPH while we waited for our bus at the end of the driveway. Much of the school year in coooold Michigander temperatures. It was awesome. Stars seemed they were always visible.

We knew our immediate neighbors. We rode our bikes for hours up and down our driveway (Not to brag, but it was the only one nearby that was completely paved). In high school, we were robbed by the senior higher who lived a few doors down from us. We watched the fire department accidentally drive through a closed door, and every so often a traveling group of Indians would set up their teepees in the field across the highway. In the 20 minutes we waited for the bus, often we pretended we were Ninja Turtles (I was usually Michaelangelo, because I love eating pizza and saying “Dude”. He was usually Leonardo, because he’s a natural leader and genius.) before we hopped on the bus for the 1.5 hour trek around horror-movie-inspiring cornfields picking up all the other students who lives “outside of town”. You could say it was a pretty normal place to live.

I remember when our city, Eaton Rapids, was about to have it’s very own McDonald’s restaurant open. The excitement was building for months as we saw the holy structure take form. The date was set for opening. It was only about 1.4 miles away, but it was 1.4 miles of M-50. Intimidating? Nah. My older brother was with me. Plus…we wanted to be among the first to taste the amazing goodness that was fast food, and enjoy the coming-of-age experience of a bike ride to food without adults.

It was a pretty great place to grow. I’m thankful for it.

Where I live now is more an Avenue than highway.

If a car comes down the cobblestone street going faster than 15 MPH, I stand up and give them my stern-serious look. If we forget sour cream, we can run out to get it and be back in a few minutes. Our kids play together. We celebrate holidays together, and call the cops on each other. (Lovingly, of course.) There are streetlamps on both sides of our street, straight out of some old-time movie. If the kids on our street aren’t homeschooled, they can walk down the block to school each morning.

It’s still a bit new to me, this living in closer community. Where we could walk most places we need to get to within an easy stroll. Trick-or-Treat season finds mini-vans from all over the city dropping off a load of kids to wander around begging sugar from door-to-door. We share a water provider, and a sewer system. It’s a pretty intimate deal. Much of this might simply be adult-hood, but I know the names of most of the families up and down both sides of my street. We pray for them. We hope that somehow God’s Love will be known and experienced by the ways that we connect in relationship…whether they know Him already or not. We draw with sidewalk chalk and play hop scotch and wave at the elderly man who grows herbs in his basement year-round (legal ones).

You can’t always see the stars very well.

But the people sure are great.

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Childhood of Jesus

Posted on May 13, 2014May 13, 2014 by Wick

What would Jesus have been like as a child? What would it be like to raise him? To be his parent? To have a child simultaneously so completely childish, and yet full of Truth most of us could never imagine. I know my own children have an incredible ability to help me see and think in ways I never would, save for their insistent and sporadic imagination.

Take all of that, and you get some of the tastes of J.M. Coetzee’s recent book, “The Childhood of Jesus“. I picked it up, thinking it was actually about the childhood of Jesus. As I began reading, I realized it was about a boy named David. As I continued reading, I was surprised by all of the allegory and symbolism that pointed to the uniqueness and mystery wrapped up in the childish Jesus. His origins, his run-ins with authority, and his (and any childs’) ability to make the grown-ups in his life think about the “big picture”. I won’t give away much here….but it’s definitely worth a read. Here’s just a short excerpt of his parental figure trying to understand why David is having a hard time in school…

“Put an apple before him and what does he see? An apple: not one apple, just an apple. Put two apples before him. What does he see? An apple and an apple: not two apples, not the same apple twice, just an apple and an apple. Now along comes (someone else) and demands: How many apples, child? What is the answer? What are apples? What is the singular of which apples is the plural? Three men in a car heading for the East Blocks: who is the singular of which men is the plural – Eugenio or Simon or our friend the driver whose name I don’t know? Are we three, or are we one and one and one? ‘You throw up your hands in exasperation, and I can see why. One and one and one make three, you say, and I am bound to agree. Three men in a car: simple. But David won’t follow us. He won’t take the steps we take when we count: one step two step three. It is as if the numbers were islands floating in a great black sea of nothingness, and he were each time being asked to close his eyes and launch himself across the void. What if I fall? – that is what he asks himself. What if I fall and then keep falling for ever? Lying in bed in the middle of the night, I could sometimes swear that I too was falling – falling under the same spell that grips the boy. If getting from one to two is so hard, I asked myself, how shall I ever get from zero to one? From nowhere to somewhere: it seemed to demand a miracle each time.” – The Childhood of Jesus, J.M.Coetzee (page 248)

There are a few scenes you may want to censor or pre-read for younger audiences….definitely read it first before offering it to your child/young adult. But I think it’s a great book for capturing some of the wonder a boy like Jesus may have spread throughout the lives His intersected…

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