It's All About Perspective

Somebody had the great idea that a churchwide picnic on July 1 would be lots of fun! (I might note here that that somebody wasn’t there for the fun!) At any rate, even with the huge probability that it would rain on our picnic, we packed up our ice chest and loaded the chairs and The Kid into our currently unairconditioned van for our evening of fun.

We got there early, staked our spot, and ate our sandwiches pretty quickly. (This turned out to be a good idea, because all uneaten food was covered with ants within 30 minutes. The ice chest was no deterrent for those reservoir ants!) Before we had finished the sandwiches, the first round of rain came through, sending everyone there to the covered pavilion. It was a quick gottcha kind of rain, over almost as quickly as it began. It didn’t take long to reclaim our spot and pick up conversation where we had left off.

It also didn’t take long for the next round of rain to come in. This one was different. It didn’t start with those warning drops that get bigger and faster; it came in as a huge wall, the “one-minute-you-are-dry, the-next-are-soaked” kind of wall. The only warning was the visible sighting of it as it invaded our picnic with one fell swoop! People ran for the pavilion once again….the picture of people running in reminded me of news clips you might see of people running to escape a tidal wave. The wall was not one of those straight up-and-down walls; it was one of those walls that blows in at an angle, such that it was hard to escape it, even under the pavilion.

As soon as I fond dry ground, I began to look around for The Kid. It didn’t take long for me to find him playing like a duck that’s just found water for the first time in a very long time! He was jumping in puddles, holding his mouth wide open catching the rain, and finding slippery muddy spots to “skate” on. I lived vicariously for a few moments. Then it began to occur to me that everyone else was telling their kids to stay dry and out of the wet and mud. Some were even watching Austin, then looking at me….I think they wanted me to tell him to stop. But I could not make him stop. There was no reason to – no thunder or lightening, he was already wet, and besides the only way to get to the car was going to be through the mud puddles.

When the downpour stopped, we decided to not wait to see if another one was coming. We grabbed our stuff and a wet, muddy Kid and loaded the unairconditioned van once more. As we were leaving, The Kid was positively glowing from all the fun he had. Then he said, “I wish God would make it rain every day!” My first thoughts were, “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” then “You’d get tired of that very quickly,” and then “You don’t have enough shoes!” It took a few more minutes for me to understand that it was not his perspective that was out of whack; it was mine.

From the beginning of the journey till the end, I saw all that was not so fun about the afternoon – the heat, the huge chance of rain, the ants, the rain itself, the ride in the unairconditioned van, the muddy clothes and shoes – get the picture? The Kid was grateful for the time together, the fact that he could see the rez from our picnic spot, the friends he played horseshoes with, the large bag of bar-b-que chips he got to walk around with, and the rain and all it brought. (He even wanted to stop and show some friends how wet and muddy he was!)

God, please do some serious surgery on my perspective. Give me the eyes and a heart of a child that somehow only see the great stuff. Thank You for the six-year-old teacher You’ve placed in my home.