With empty tummies, we climbed the chipped, linoleum steps. At the top of the stairs, Mom gave our backsides a slight shove and stated, “Get into bed; there will be no supper tonight.”
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| I spotted the picture of my brother and me as we passed the bookshelf in the hallway, and I wondered how things had gone so wrong. |
In our bedroom, I ventured to the window; the sun was shining behind our big red barn. I stretched to catch a glimpse of the damaged fences....and crawled into bed with my clothes on. I was sweaty and my hands were dirty. My jammies were downstairs in the bathroom....hanging on my special hook. I had never gone to bed in my clothes before. Should I take my socks off?
Brother stared at me from his bed. It was summer, but his covers were pulled up to his chin. We had nothing to say to each other. I tried closing my eyes.
Slowly, the room darkened as the sun did its evening thing, and there was a knock on the door. Dad came in with a tray: saltine crackers and two glasses of milk. We had never had milk in bed before. He helped us with our prayers, said nothing about the day’s events, patted us on the head, and left the room. I felt a little better.
What had we done?
Big brother, at five, decided to show me, his younger sister by thirteen months, how to drive the farm tractor. He pulled me up and showed me where to stand as he sat on the iron seat, stretched to shove in the clutch, and worked the throttle with his fingers. Dad’s Oliver rumbled and came to life.
As he released the clutch, the tractor catapulted across the farmyard. Chickens squawked, and the family dogs started barking. My tiny fingers clutched the wheel well and the back of the tractor seat as we bounced along. We hit a rut or two, and the monster took a different direction and headed straight for our massive barn.
Fences were flattened, and the barnyard cows kicked up their heels and fled to the corn fields as we blasted into the side of the barn and jolted to a stop—the tractor silenced.
In a frenzy, Mother scurried us to the house making unintelligible sounds. I’m not sure what the hurry was. Although speechless, we both could walk and apparently were uninjured.
Interestingly enough, the most vivid memory was going to bed with no supper. It hadn’t happened before. It never happened again.
Mom took this picture weeks later.
Notice who is in the driver's seat!
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Perceptions
My empty tummy, my parent's unusual behavior, and feeling alone were my child-like perceptions.
Looking back, my parents' perceptions were extremely different: fear of losing one or more children in a horrible accident.
We view the world and situations differently as we age. Our perceptions change. Some of us mellow; some of us become more anxious. Does wisdom come with age?
I'm relieved that as a child my memories were of an empty tummy and not the fear of death at age three.
Life passes so quickly. I was reminded of this in church last Sunday. One of the pastor's sons had returned from over-seas. I remembered him as fresh-faced little boy when they arrived as a family a couple of decades ago. Now, he is tall, whiskered, and visits with the other members of our church--adult to adult. Yesterday's couples with high-school aged children are now the revered members who stay seated throughout the service--the getting up and down being too difficult for their aging bodies.
Someone said, "The only thing we can be sure of is change." Change is inevitable. But there is something that does not change and that is God's unconditional and unfailing love for each of us. Although we are directed by God to have a child-like faith, our perceptions of ourselves and our faith need to mature as we are the living image of God in His kingdom. We have responsibilities because of who we are. Through study of his Word, loving your neighbor, God will reveal His love to us more each day. This is a blessing.
May your perceptions
of the almighty God
and his love for you
bring you joy and peace.
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