Jesus has been all over our home recently.
Harper introduced him to the dinosaurs.
Doesn’t look like it went so well judging from the look of this picture.
I even got in on it during the Christmas season when I yelled, “I found Jesus!” after looking for him everywhere in the living room. He was under our couch.
I wasn’t surprised when one afternoon, during Hadley’s quiet time, she had created this scene:
Hadley watches my reactions carefully, so I try to be very careful when I look at things she’s created for fear I will discourage whatever story she is trying to work out. When I walked into the living room to see the above scene, I nodded in interest as Hadley watched me.
“Intriguing,” I told her as she studied my face. I went to the playroom to sit down at our table and a few minutes later, Hadley joined me.
She put her hand on my shoulder, leaned in and whispered, “Mama? Is it OK to make up stories about Jesus?”
Do you want to know how I motivated myself to take my driver’s test for my license? I failed just about every written test during the semester, and my driver’s ed teacher rarely took his foot off the break of the steering wheel when it was my turn to drive. Plus, there was that whole “car accident” thing that occurred when I made my very first right turn. Into oncoming traffic. Then hit a curb. One the other side of the road. It’s a story for another day, but let me just say I’m pretty sure that incident was the reason lawmakers insisted on kids wearing seat belts in backseats. It’s probably also why kids today have to be in car seats until they’re the size of LeBron James.
Needless to say, the odds were stacked against me, but my mom took me to take the test a few days after my 16th birthday while I cried the entire time, “I’ll never get my license. I’ll never get my license. I’LL NEVER GET MY LICENSE.” (Honestly, I don’t know where Harper gets it from.)
When my name was called, I walked up to meet the lady who would sit with me as I drove around the Chicagoland area and here is what I imagined: Jesus and a whole crowd of people cheering for me in Heaven. The “crowd” consisted of my favorite Bible story characters: Esther, Daniel, as well as several of the Muppets.
Hours later, I was picking up my best friend Celena with a freshly laminated license so we could cruise the streets.
“Yes, Hadley. I think it’s OK to make up stories about Jesus,” I told her. “Will you tell me your story?”
“All the people who are not on the box are dead,” she told me, watching my reaction carefully.
“Oh dear,” I said.
“But then, God touched every. Single. One,” she told me this as she took one of the nativity shepherds and grazed the Fisher Price people so they could live. “And then they lived.”
“That’s nice.”
“There’s more, Mama. After they lived, they all went out to dinner and then they got married……Wait. They got married first and then they went out to dinner.”
“I see.” I suppose it’s good to make some sort of commitment before one goes out to dinner. I’m thinking more along the lines of, “I won’t try anything funny and I’ll bring you home by 11,” but if marriage is what Hadley needs before she eats a meal with a boy, then that’s just fine.
A few days later, the girls and I were getting ready for school. I won’t say the mornings are stressful, but they’re not calm. We need to move at a quick clip, so I am frequently reminding the girls to keep to their “checklist” of things to do. (Yes, they have a checklist. Yes, I set the kitchen timer so that when it beeps the girls know exactly what it is they are supposed to do. Yes, I could easily be the best friend of the guy who thinks he’s a doctor in the movie The Dream Team.)
On this particular morning, I was in a bad mood. Dishes were everywhere, the garbage was overflowing, and somehow the girls had taken out every toy they owned and flung them all over the floor. I was snippy, and my words to Hadley and Harper were probably harsher then they needed to be.
We walked down our stairs to our building, and I told them that before we went to the car, we would stop by the dumpster so I could throw the garbage away. As we opened the door, the garbage truck was right in front of our building, backing up to the dumpster, its “beep,” “beep,” “beep” so loud that both Hadley and Harper put their hands over their ears.
Hadley and Harper have a thing about garbage trucks. They are both terrified and in awe of them. So being this close to something that is so mysterious and makes so much noise filled them with thrills and anxiety. As I lugged the garbage to the dumpster, I continually turned around to make sure the girls were OK. Neither of them ever took their eyes off the truck.
While this was happening, helicopters flew over our neighborhood, surely flying towards DC. I looked up at them and wondered whether the President was flying overhead. I don’t know how many years I will live in this area, but I don’t think it will not be a big deal that I have been neighbors (in loose terms) with two Presidents.
The girls never looked up. They stood staring at the garbage truck and the men who were throwing bags of garbage into it.
I wasn’t sure what to do with my garbage as I got closer. I wondered if maybe I was late in putting it in the dumpster. I thought maybe my garbage was too heavy, that they didn’t have room for it in the truck. I took a quick look at it to make sure I hadn’t accidentally (on purpose) thrown anything away that really should go in the recycling. Suddenly, I was ashamed of my garbage. I think realizing that I might have to physically hand it to someone made me think perhaps I should just take care of the garbage myself. Reuse it somehow. Start a compost pile perhaps.
The garbage man waved his hand for me to give him my bag, so I stepped off the curb and walked towards him. Hadley’s mouth was wide open and Harper was as alert as a hunting dog. They couldn’t believe how close I was to the garbage truck.
I could barely look the guy in the eye. I mumbled something like, “Sorry,” though over the truck’s noise there was no way he heard me. But he leaned in and looked me in the eye as he said, “Have a good day,” his gloved hand careful not to touch mine as he took my bag from me.
“Thank you,” I said rubbing my hand where the handles of the bag had made a mark from the weight of it. I turned towards my girls and walked to the sidewalk. The three of us walked together to the next part of the day. I felt lighter. And happy. And grateful.
Yes, Hadley. Make up stories about Jesus. I think that’s the best way to find Him, and for Him to find you.
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