When I Grow Up, I’ll…. (a cautionary tale)

Just Thinking…..

Imagine a group of high school kids  grabbing some pizza and having that wonderful high school conversation about the future.  Imagine that it went like this:

“I plan to go to college and graduate with huge debt.  I probably won’t work during college because, hey…. I can always get another loan.”

“My plans are to have some kids but not get married.”

“Well, I plan to get married and have some kids, but I want to be divorced while they are still young.”

“I’m hoping to be living with my folks.”

“My goal is to father some kids, but stay out of their lives.”

“I want to spend several years behind bars.”

“Overall, I hope to be unemployed most of my life….. have a job here and there….. nothing steady”

“I just want to be fired from my job.”

“More than likely, I’ll be homeless and searching for the best shelter.”

“I’d like to devote my life to drugs, live in a haze, get in trouble.”

“Just wanting to drop out of school….”

“I want to die young…. maybe a car wreck or suicide or something….”

“I’d really like to be a homewrecker…. break up someone’s marriage.”

“I’m trying to be an alcoholic.”

“My plan is to burn out on the job.”

“I’m trying to prepare myself now to have a bad reputation, to be known as a liar and a cheat.”

“I want to smoke so heavily that I get cancer.”

“I don’t want to have any friends.”

“If I do nothing else, I just want my family to lose respect for me.”

“I just want to always be giving up.”

Can you imagine?  If a group of teens did gather to talk like this, I would just hope that it was all in jest.  After all, who plans to deliberately be a failure?

And yet…….. it happens.  The divorce, the fatherless home,  the homeless father, the person who can’t keep a job, the one who is in debt up to the eyeballs, the one who loses freedom, loses health, loses family, loses wealth,……. It wasn’t planned, but that’s what happened.

How?  How did it go in the wrong direction?  How did the energy and optimism of youth become shattered dreams?  How did one bad decision, one thoughtless action, one reckless night become something that haunts the rest of life?

To the youth…… Gather for pizza. Make plans.  Dream big.  Get an action plan.  Don’t let failure stop you.  Keep on climbing.

Langston Hughes wrote a most pointed poem about this.  Consider  his words:

Mother to Son

By Langston Hughes

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

Father,  My heart hurts for those who lose their way so quickly and never can quite find the way back.  Help me know the best way to  reach out.

To God be the glory,’

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Mom and Dad and Shirley and Jack… (an uncommon friendship)

Just thinking…..

My friend Ruth recently noted that her father, Jack, never wanted people to greet him in the airport.  You know…”Hi, Jack!”   LOL…..  But that got me to thinking about her father and mother….. and then my father and mother….. and how their lives intersected.

They  were not old friends; they were friends who were old.  I first met Shirley and Jack when I entered our church one Sunday and saw these two heads.  One was somewhat bald and shiny, and one had full magnificent white hair.  I thought it was my mother and father, who must have driven down from Iowa to surprise me.  So I walked up to the pew,  sat down and slid over….. only to discover that these folks were not my parents.  We all had a good laugh, and that was how I met Jack and Shirley.

Aside from looking the same from the back, my parents and Ruth’s parents had much in common.  Mom and Shirley loved being wives and mothers and grandmothers  and taking care of the family.   Dad and Jack were both veterans (Dad with the US Army and Jack with the Dutch military), and they both enjoyed woodworking, and telling a good story.

When my parents finally did come down  to Missouri and visit us, I arranged for them to meet Jack and Shirley.  Those four hit it off, and it was almost as if I was no longer in the room.  They were instantly talking and laughing and sharing stories  and getting some coffee and talking some more.  Jack and Shirley left after promising to come to Iowa for a visit.

And they did.  Mom told me that they called to say they would like to come up, stay awhile, go to Pella (the Dutch community near my parents) and see the sights of Iowa.  No one talked about how long the visit would be.  My folks figured it might be two or three days, and that was fine by them.  When they arrived, the talk and stories and laughter and coffee commenced immediately.

The four of them went to Pella and they visited the Dutch village, had pastries at the Dutch bakery, viewed the windmill, and heard Jack’s stories about growing up in the Netherlands.  Another day they went to the Boone railroad and took the scenic tour.  They visited the quaint Villages of Van Buren.  They went shopping and ate out.  The two or three days stretched into a week.  No one seemed to mind.

Mom and Dad were planting garden and Jack and Shirley joined right in.  They all went to church together.  The folks lived on gravel roads, and the car was dusty.  Jack hooked up the hose and washed the car…. and did it again…. and again.   Dad had to run to town for something; Jack went along, and they worked in the wood shop together.   Shirley and Mom cooked together.  They all sat out on the patio and had coffee.  The week stretched into another week.  No one seemed to mind.

Jack and Shirley had to leave for home.  Mom said that the place just felt empty when they left.  They waved goodbye until the car disappeared around the corner.    The garden grew.   The car got dusty again.

As time went on, they met occasionally.  Travel became more difficult.  But they could send Christmas cards and pictures.  The time came that Jack died in his wood shop.  Shirley began. to have memory problems….. and when she looked at a picture of Jack, she said that this is the man I loved.  Then she passed away. My father died.  Five years later my mother died.

All of them were believers.  I don’t know how friendships work in Heaven, but it’s possible that they still enjoy each other’s company as they worship our Lord.

Wasn’t that a remarkable friendship?  It was that instant click…. that easy, no-frills relationship.  It was as if my dad said, “Hi Jack!” and then grinned…..  and they walk off in deep conversation.  I am blessed to have some friends like that: friends with whom I can pick up the conversation trail that we forged years ago.  Friends that understand what makes me tick.  Friends that will wash my car.  Friends who will let me wash their car.  Friends that get it.

It makes all the difference.

Father,

Thank You for the friends You put into our lives.  Help me not take them for granted, but to pray for them always.

To God be the Glory…..

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