At the moment, in this period of quarantining, there are three games I refuse to play with my children: Sorry!, Monopoly, and a game called Life.
For beginners, nothing is worse than having four tokens per player to laboriously move around the board (sorry!), except, maybe, if you get held up in Jail and roll no doubles three turns in a row. Nothing is worse–except not having a good excuse to not play these blasted games because, after all, we are staying home and avoiding people at all cost.
And then there’s the game of Life–I’m sure you know it. While I fold clothes, I listen to my boys argue about what’s better: going to college or taking the straight-to-work path, retiring early or being a famous rock star. And, of course, if winning a forehead contest should really earn a person $40,000.
It’s so funny, and it reminds me of MASH, that old fortune telling pen and paper game girls played in junior high. We’d sweat out our nightmare scenarios and potential dream lives–Mansion? Apartment? Shack? House?–and fall over laughing at the absurdity of marrying a classmate someday.
The boys poked little pink and blue pegs into their tiny cars–each one ironically had a pair of twins. I heard Luke say to his brother, “You know, I think we should play with a different goal this time. Instead of early retirement, let’s play whoever has the most babies at the end wins.”
I smiled to myself, paused my folding, and went over to the desk to pick up my most recent mail. If I’m counting according to Luke, I’m winning, because I’ve got eight other babies around the world.
Eberson sent me a photo with his new baby ox. Paul is grinning ear to ear, holding a wily little goat by a rope. Lucina has lost her front teeth. Shedrack’s mama has bought a new piece of property and is ecstatic to begin a business. Fatima, at age three, has finally taken her first steps. I am as proud as can be, a mom who has sent out some tiny words and scraps of hope and been blessed a thousand times over. These kids of mine sprinkled around the world aren’t drawing any lucky cards; they are masters of hard work and sunshine. They are evidence of God’s love for me.
When I get mail from them, I hear the Lord whisper in my heart, Watch, Pearl, and if you keep your eyes on the prize, I’ll let you play a small part in what I’m doing.
Believers in humble circumstances should take pride in their high position. But the rich should take pride in their humiliation–since they will pass away like a wildflower. (James 1:9-10)
This is a teaching I can understand. I grow wildflowers–plant them right under the sprinklers in my front yard–I know. I cut down those barren stalks last weekend, I remind myself on purpose how swiftly one’s fortune can fade. If life were about me and what I can hold onto, He would’ve never made wildflowers to remind me how fragile it all is. They wilt in a cup of water. They drop their seeds all over the place; just a flash of glory, barely a memory.
We are at home, nine months into this coronavirus gig, nine months of bearing with one another, clueless to what the future holds. Sometimes I still can’t believe my luck, that the biggest aggravation today will be breaking up simple sibling spats, deciding what to make for supper, and trying to pretend I’m too busy to play board games.
My husband’s job is fantastic. My family is healthy.
I stay up late to remind myself this is passing away like a wildflower. I sort through my stacks of correspondence and wonder if we can hold up one more of our brothers and sisters in humble circumstances. They are so loved, so elevated, so very highly thought of by our Father. It’s those little blue and pink pegs, those precious children with forever souls, that God wants to see move forward and win in this game of Life. It is a far worthier goal than early retirement or rockstar status.
So be it if we are the token cars to get them there.
So be it, if I am just a wilting wildflower. Let’s fit more babies in that car.
Perhaps you have been overlooking your own wildflower status, when we’ve been directed by our Savior to notice and uphold the cause of the poor. How has education, nutrition, and encouragement factored into your life? If it has been a sizable impact, would you consider passing this favor on?
Pause to consider the impact a child released from poverty can have on her community. Pause to consider the impact this same child can have on you.
In a recent email I learned that more than 250,000 children are waiting for a sponsor through Compassion International.
World Vision says,
“thanks to the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act, the cap on cash contributions to charitable organizations like World Vision has been lifted from 60% to 100% of adjusted gross income if the gift is made in 2020”.
Please think about supporting a family today.
He upholds the cause of the oppressed
and gives food to the hungry.
The Lord sets prisoners free,
the Lord gives sight to the blind,
the Lord lifts up those who are bowed down,
the Lord loves the righteous.
The Lord watches over the foreigner
and sustains the fatherless and the widow,
but he frustrates the ways of the wicked.
Psalm 146
