Tonight as I was relegated to the back seat as Austin drove us home from church. This often has the effect of making me a little car sick, but tonight it gave me an opportunity to hobnob with the little ones in the back seats more than I normally would. As we drove toward home and I snuggled with Levi, something must have dawned on him.
First, you might need a little back story. You see, last night Levi and Violet had to sleep at my mom's so that we could pick up some extra people on the way to church in the morning. (Seven people in a seven-passenger van doesn't leave much room for extras.) When we had been on our way to drop them off at my mom's last evening, 4-year-old Levi said, "Oh, I love to have a sleepover at Grandma's. My friends are gonna be there, and that's my favorite." (He was referring to his cousins who sometimes also sleep over when my mom has giant - and getting more giant all the time - grandchild sleepovers once in a while.) When Mark explained to him that his cousins wouldn't be there and that it would just be him and Violet, he was disappointed, but insisted that there would probably be some other kids there at some point. Nothing more was said on the subject, if I recall.
Back to the car ride this evening... as we sat together in the back seat, Levi sat up and said to Mark in the passenger seat, "Dad, I'm sorry." Mark asked, "What for, buddy?" Levi replied, "For saying I was right when I was wrong. Last night was just a sleepover for me and Violet - not any other kids, and you told me that, but I didn't believe you. So I'm sorry. You were right." Mark and I looked at each other, and I am sure we were both thinking the same thing. This was an absolute first for Levi. This sweet (mostly unnecessary) apology from the child who, whenever you tell him most anything at all, likes to say, "Yeah, I know that already." (I, for one, was thinking how nice it would have been to have a tape recorder for replay about 6-8 years down the road.)
Mark told Levi that it was okay. I leaned over and whispered to Levi how proud I was of him that he was willing to say that he was wrong about something. At which point he leaned up toward Mark again and said, "Dad, you were right, and I was wrong." There are moments in parenthood that I swear I could see an iridescent almost angelic glow around one of my children. Yes, it's ridiculous, but that is the kind of pride that wells up within a parent almost irresistibly. Some parents are proud of achievements in academics or sports. Some are proud of how beautiful or handsome or strong their children are. I know that a lot of parents these days seem to think their children are especially gifted with intelligence. These are all good things, don't get me wrong. I'm finding that the older I get and the older our children get the more I value acts of good character. They're in no way perfect. They mess up like I do, but when I see an act of good conscience or character, it gives me hope that something we're doing is helping produce things in them that will bring honor to God.
Levi also said tonight as we were driving, "Are there any deer out at night?" (We had seen some on the way to church earlier when it had been daylight outside.) I said that there were. He said, "Is it hard to see them at night?" I said that it was much harder to see them at night. Then he said, "I bet if I turn my light on (the overhead light) I'll be able to see them better." That's a logical conclusion for a child to draw, of course, but an adult knows that turning lights on inside the car only obscures the view to the outside. The exchange got me thinking that sometimes we think in a similar way. We think that if we can see clearly in our own, little sphere - if we can navigate our own minds and thoughts - that we can see others too. God has been crushing me in the area of pride lately. I don't say crushing in a negative way. After all, it's the crushing that makes wine from grapes. I just mean that He's been weighing on that area in me and showing me the ugliness that accompanies self-reliance and self-focus.
Mark and I took a few minutes last week to drive down by the river and talk... which, because of his work hours, we'd been unable to do for quite awhile. We somehow got on the subject of hypocrisy and how funny it is that people are quick to point it out in others. The irony, of course, is that as soon as you start thinking how haughty and above-others another person must think he or she is, you've become the hypocrite yourself. You have begun to judge the other and are so glad that you are not a hypocrite like that. I see that happening a lot in just about every circle in which I find myself, from homeschooling to church to motherhood. For some reason, our human nature dictates that we must try to make ourselves feel as though we are superior to someone else. Don't kid yourself... even if you are feeding the poor, sheltering the homeless, and loving everyone, you're feeling pretty good about yourself that you're doing better than someone(s) else. I don't know whether it's based in a deep-down feeling of inferiority that we're fighting against or just that we're so self-centered that we can't give other people grace. We don't ever automatically assume that God is working on the other person just like He's surely at work on us. We're all just as desperately in need of His grace working out our many bad character traits as the guy/girl in the next car, house, or seat.
It reminds me of the analogy of a Builder who begins working diligently on building a house. He's working on it daily for 3 whole days when someone else comes along, proclaims himself an inspector, and declares the house condemned. "This house is no good. The construction is shoddy, and it's not livable," says the "inspector". The Builder says, "But it's not done. In fact, I just began work on it. I have help, and I'll get it done. I just need more time." We are all the man longing to see our house built - with the Builder's help. We are working on it together, by His grace and in His strength, on a daily basis. There will never be a shortage of "inspectors" claiming that they can obviously tell, with their own eyes, that this house is not acceptable. It is not up to the inspector's standards. However, the self-proclaimed inspector doesn't see the whole picture... the Master Builder and His crew... the blueprints that are perfectly planned and mapped out... the wealth of highest quality building supplies in a warehouse just waiting to be used... the dogged determination of the Builder.
Anyway, that's the way I tell a short story - make it long. It was just another reminder to me - that I hope you could use too - that pride and hypocrisy are foolish for an infinitely imperfect people to try to wield against one another. They are tools we don't have any right to use, because we can't even begin to be perfect ourselves. This "inspector" needs grace to become more willing to admit that my eye was wrong, and I need to be able to give grace to those other "inspectors" suffering from the same kind of blindness.
First, you might need a little back story. You see, last night Levi and Violet had to sleep at my mom's so that we could pick up some extra people on the way to church in the morning. (Seven people in a seven-passenger van doesn't leave much room for extras.) When we had been on our way to drop them off at my mom's last evening, 4-year-old Levi said, "Oh, I love to have a sleepover at Grandma's. My friends are gonna be there, and that's my favorite." (He was referring to his cousins who sometimes also sleep over when my mom has giant - and getting more giant all the time - grandchild sleepovers once in a while.) When Mark explained to him that his cousins wouldn't be there and that it would just be him and Violet, he was disappointed, but insisted that there would probably be some other kids there at some point. Nothing more was said on the subject, if I recall.
Back to the car ride this evening... as we sat together in the back seat, Levi sat up and said to Mark in the passenger seat, "Dad, I'm sorry." Mark asked, "What for, buddy?" Levi replied, "For saying I was right when I was wrong. Last night was just a sleepover for me and Violet - not any other kids, and you told me that, but I didn't believe you. So I'm sorry. You were right." Mark and I looked at each other, and I am sure we were both thinking the same thing. This was an absolute first for Levi. This sweet (mostly unnecessary) apology from the child who, whenever you tell him most anything at all, likes to say, "Yeah, I know that already." (I, for one, was thinking how nice it would have been to have a tape recorder for replay about 6-8 years down the road.)
Mark told Levi that it was okay. I leaned over and whispered to Levi how proud I was of him that he was willing to say that he was wrong about something. At which point he leaned up toward Mark again and said, "Dad, you were right, and I was wrong." There are moments in parenthood that I swear I could see an iridescent almost angelic glow around one of my children. Yes, it's ridiculous, but that is the kind of pride that wells up within a parent almost irresistibly. Some parents are proud of achievements in academics or sports. Some are proud of how beautiful or handsome or strong their children are. I know that a lot of parents these days seem to think their children are especially gifted with intelligence. These are all good things, don't get me wrong. I'm finding that the older I get and the older our children get the more I value acts of good character. They're in no way perfect. They mess up like I do, but when I see an act of good conscience or character, it gives me hope that something we're doing is helping produce things in them that will bring honor to God.
Levi also said tonight as we were driving, "Are there any deer out at night?" (We had seen some on the way to church earlier when it had been daylight outside.) I said that there were. He said, "Is it hard to see them at night?" I said that it was much harder to see them at night. Then he said, "I bet if I turn my light on (the overhead light) I'll be able to see them better." That's a logical conclusion for a child to draw, of course, but an adult knows that turning lights on inside the car only obscures the view to the outside. The exchange got me thinking that sometimes we think in a similar way. We think that if we can see clearly in our own, little sphere - if we can navigate our own minds and thoughts - that we can see others too. God has been crushing me in the area of pride lately. I don't say crushing in a negative way. After all, it's the crushing that makes wine from grapes. I just mean that He's been weighing on that area in me and showing me the ugliness that accompanies self-reliance and self-focus.
Mark and I took a few minutes last week to drive down by the river and talk... which, because of his work hours, we'd been unable to do for quite awhile. We somehow got on the subject of hypocrisy and how funny it is that people are quick to point it out in others. The irony, of course, is that as soon as you start thinking how haughty and above-others another person must think he or she is, you've become the hypocrite yourself. You have begun to judge the other and are so glad that you are not a hypocrite like that. I see that happening a lot in just about every circle in which I find myself, from homeschooling to church to motherhood. For some reason, our human nature dictates that we must try to make ourselves feel as though we are superior to someone else. Don't kid yourself... even if you are feeding the poor, sheltering the homeless, and loving everyone, you're feeling pretty good about yourself that you're doing better than someone(s) else. I don't know whether it's based in a deep-down feeling of inferiority that we're fighting against or just that we're so self-centered that we can't give other people grace. We don't ever automatically assume that God is working on the other person just like He's surely at work on us. We're all just as desperately in need of His grace working out our many bad character traits as the guy/girl in the next car, house, or seat.
It reminds me of the analogy of a Builder who begins working diligently on building a house. He's working on it daily for 3 whole days when someone else comes along, proclaims himself an inspector, and declares the house condemned. "This house is no good. The construction is shoddy, and it's not livable," says the "inspector". The Builder says, "But it's not done. In fact, I just began work on it. I have help, and I'll get it done. I just need more time." We are all the man longing to see our house built - with the Builder's help. We are working on it together, by His grace and in His strength, on a daily basis. There will never be a shortage of "inspectors" claiming that they can obviously tell, with their own eyes, that this house is not acceptable. It is not up to the inspector's standards. However, the self-proclaimed inspector doesn't see the whole picture... the Master Builder and His crew... the blueprints that are perfectly planned and mapped out... the wealth of highest quality building supplies in a warehouse just waiting to be used... the dogged determination of the Builder.
Anyway, that's the way I tell a short story - make it long. It was just another reminder to me - that I hope you could use too - that pride and hypocrisy are foolish for an infinitely imperfect people to try to wield against one another. They are tools we don't have any right to use, because we can't even begin to be perfect ourselves. This "inspector" needs grace to become more willing to admit that my eye was wrong, and I need to be able to give grace to those other "inspectors" suffering from the same kind of blindness.
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