Wait

The middle school girl across the dinner table from me was lost gazing into space.  Her friend said she was deep in thought.  Naturally, I asked what she was thinking about.  Again her friend provided the answer: boys.  She has a boyfriend but there's another guy she likes.  I've never been there, but I still realize that's a difficult position.

"You know that one thing all guys want?"  the girl asked.

I nodded, carefully choosing words as we embarked into dangerous territory.  "If he does not respect you, then he is not worth your time," I said.

She nodded and told me about her purity commitment.

"One day you will find a man who respects you as a woman," I continued.  "One who will honor your commitment and your relationship with God.  Maybe he'll even share in them.  You will find a man who treats you right.  Do not settle for anything less."

She nodded.

There was no point in continuing my sermon.  It was something she already knew but needed to hear again.  Likewise, I needed to say it again.

Interdigiting

"Let a child take you for a week every week." - Max Lucado

My Baptist Church had a (dry) tailgate before my college's Homecoming football game. Amber wanted to take little Abby to the parade. I figured my six year old boyfriend would enjoy it, too.

Several weeks ago it came out that this busy six year old has three girlfriends. I asked if I could be number four. His father applauded him for working the college girls. He was too embarrassed to look at me all day. I think that means yes.

I knew getting him to go to the parade with me was a long shot but it was worth a try. At his father's insistence, he came. The four of us walked (ok, Amber carried Abby) to what we thought was the parade route only to discover we were on the wrong side of the soccer field. Even at their slowest speed my long legs move twice as fast as this six year old's little legs. I didn't want him to get lost in the crowd. I also realized he'd still a bit uncomfortable with me. I kept a close eye on him and my hand at a level where he could grab it if he so desired.

The closer we got to the parade, the closer he got to me. When we stopped, he reached up and took my hand. He then reached up with his other hand and grabbed hold. We watched the parade together, my right hand held captive in both of his.

I was no longer jealous of Amber with the toddler. I had a six year old comfortable enough to grab my hand with both hands. Maybe he was afraid the animals on the floats were going to jump off. Maybe he was afraid I was going to wander off and leave him. Maybe he was lost but he knew I wasn't; I knew where his parents were. All the way back, he held me hand with one hand and stuck so close I had to step around him to move. I didn't mind.

Is that how we should be with God? Our inclination, especially at first, is to wander nearby God. As we walk, we realize He knows where we're going. And we don't. We step closer and closer to Him. We link hands and let Him show us the way. He leads; we follow closely and (sometimes) obediently.

When my "boyfriend" had my hand, my face had a smile. I loved walking hand in hand with him. I wanted to introduce him to everyone we passed, I steered him clear of hot grilles, I returned him safely to his parents. If I can feel that much joy from walking with a six year old who may or may not claim to be my boyfriend (my vote is on not), how much more joy does God feel when we walk with Him? God takes pride in calling us His children. He does not steer us clear of all trials and turbulence but He does walk with us all of the way. With His shield of protect, nothing happens to us without His knowledge. That's more than I could promise my "boyfriend."

<>< Katie

April

Last summer, I helped with an inner-city VBS.  I was sitting at the table with several preteen boys.  I knew the family situation of these boys was not good.  Two of the boys were being removed from their home and put into foster care.  A different boy at the table was their cousin; he began trash-talking their parents.  The older of the two kids in foster care, naturally, became defensive of his parents and threatened violence against his cousin.

I've worked with kids a long time.  I can say, "I'm trained to handle that" to most situations, but this one was out of my expertise.  I tried to get the kid to apologize.  Fail.  I tried to "jump the shark" and change the subject.  Fail.  I had no idea what to do.  And I froze.

April came to my rescue.  She knew this family's story and how to handle these boys.  As soon as she had the situation under control, I excused myself from the table and moved to color with the little kids.  I'm much more comfortable with crayons.  It was during that week that I decided I wanted to be April when I grow up.

This week, I jokingly said, "God, I'd love to grow up to be April as long as I don't have to marry a guy like Christian."  April's husband is one of the leaders of my 20s ministry, and on Monday we played Jenga.  Until I accidentally knocked the tower into Christian's lap and he showered me with blocks.  Mind you, Christian is a pastor and we are at church.  We moved on to building with Jenga blocks where I used my right hand to build while using my left to knock Christian's hand away from destroying my creation.  Luckily, I learned a long time ago that sassing and vexing is a love language, and most of my friends think it's my primary love language.

I love Christian and April.  They're such a godly couple.  Sure, they don't always get long.  I've seen that, but I've also seen them both admit when they're wrong.  I've seen them willingly give of themselves to serve God's Kingdom.  I've seen them be used by Him.  I've only known Christian and April for a year or so, but I do know I need more people like them in my life.

Happy birthday, April.  I'm so glad you're coming home soon.  We both know it's not good for Christian to be home alone.  :-)

<>< Katie

Bedtime Books

When people call my house requesting a specific babysitter, they normally strike out.  However, since there are three of us, normally someone else is there to pick up the slack.  Somebody called for Laura, but she had a photo shoot, so I was second best.  I'm ok with that.  I had never babysat for this family before, and Laura had.  The kid's mom worked at my high school, and I'd met Cole through day camp, my summer job a few years back.

Cole was pretty well behaved and quite self-sufficient for being five years old.  A couple little problems here and there, but he's five.  Even the best five year old doesn't always drop everything and do what is requested of him (or her) at that exact moment (not even the best twenty year old does that, eh, Mom? :-)).  However, bedtime was a different story. Stall Queen here may have met her match.  "Two more kicks with the soccer ball before we go inside."  "I can't get my socks off because my legs are made of rubber."  "Look, I'm a dummy!"  "That's too much toothpaste."  "No, I don't want to wear those pajamas"... you know, kid stuff.  Yes, I did start counting.  I got to two, and Cole picked a book to read.  I breathed a sigh of relief; I didn't know what I was going to do if I got to three.  No brushing your teeth?

The book Cole picked out was entitled The Human Body, and he flipped through it looking at the pictures and asking questions.  That human biology class I took a few semesters back came in handy in an unanticipated way.  All else fails, I could just read the words next to the drawings.  "That's the ribcage; it's this part of your body."  "That's a tooth and there are four different kinds."  "The smallest bone in the body is in the ear."  Piece of cake!  Until we flipped to the last page.  When he first turned the page, I was thrilled because it meant the book was almost done and it would be lights out.  Except then I remembered what publishers keep on the last page of human body books just to torment unsuspecting babysitters.  Yup, as that dawned on me Cole's little fingers slammed down on a drawing showing the differences between boys and girls.

"What's that?"
I lied.  I said I didn't know.
Problem: this five year old can read.
"What's 'protection' mean?"

If I'd have been thinking on the spot I could have explained the word in a different context, but the only word that was coming into my head was "condom."  Sorry, Cole, not gonna happen.  Instead, I changed the subject and said it was time for bed.  It was true, and I like to think it I did it in an inconspicuous way; he'd been stalling long enough.  I'll be honest, I have no problem with the anatomy subject.  Yes, I can say those words without giggling.  Just a few months ago I taught a female friend infinitely more than she ever wants to know about male anatomy using my own drawings, textbook diagrams, and webmd.  Not a problem. Also not a conversation I'm having with the five year old who had ten minutes earlier asked me to leave his room so he could put on his pajamas.  That is not in my job description.  Since I think he asked more out of a desire to stall than he did out of a need to know, I didn't even go for the "Ask Mom and Dad."  The last thing I wanted was to invoke a, "Daddy, Miss Katie said..."  Frankly, I don't think that's a conversation a five year old needs to have and definitely not with a babysitter.

I took the book away before he had the opportunity to read any more words and said it was bedtime.  Cole really was just stalling.  We moved on to something I'm a little more comfortable with: bedtime prayers.  "Now I lay me... and thanks for helping Miss Katie dodge a bullet."

Thoughts?  Similar stories?

<>< Katie

PS: In an earlier conversation, Cole told me that with his principal's permission his school's mascot could eat my school's mascot.  Thanks a lot.