Creation, Fall, Redemption, and Hungry, Hungry Hippos

It’s been some years since I’ve sat on the floor and played Hungry, Hungry, Hippos. One morning this week I arrived early at the home of friends in time to walk the older of their two daughters to her bus stop. As we waited, she told me she had a rock collection and pointed out some of her favorite stones nestled amidst the driveway gravel. We talked about how neat it was that God made rocks in all different shapes, colors, and sizes when He could have made them all the same. As we waited for the bus to arrive, my sweet friend pointed out anthills in the driveway, and we explored some moss growing on a log. The bus arrived and I received a hug and a wave from this dear little girl before she was carried off to her school.

Younger sister awoke and sat snugly on my lap, remnants of sleep dissolving into the promise of a new day. “Do you want to play with me?” she asked. And, yes, of course I did. She showed me her basket full of cars and told me about each one. Some of them, she said, were grumpy while others of the little vehicles were sweet. We played Hide-and-Seek, and I was told to hide in the guest room while my little friend hid in the toy closet. Every time. She knocked on the inside of the door and giggled wildly as I walked up and down the hallway, opening doors and calling out, “Where are you?” We played Hungry, Hungry, Hippos and I learned that the green hippo, like many of my friend’s cars, was also rather grumpy. It didn’t matter how we played the game or whose turn it was, or even that the little girl fed her marbles to the hippos by hand. We simply sat on the floor with nothing else to do but play, and I soaked up her giggles.

My friend asked if we could play outside. She ran on little toddler legs across the yard toward the swing set asking, almost singing, “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” I buckled her into a toddler swing, fumbling with safety latches that didn’t exist in the days when my children were young. I pushed; she swung, trailed by wisps of blond hair that were no longer baby-fine but completely unwilling to be captured by a barrette. When it was time to go back inside for lunch she ran again, and I caught just a glimpse of the shape of my own sweet baby girl at that age.

It was a beautiful day, a gift I received from two dear friends who needed help while they were closing on the purchase of a new home. Several friends from church took turns caring for their little ones throughout the day. My friend apologized for the imposition and offered to compensate us with pieces of her handmade pottery. I accepted the pottery because she makes beautiful pieces, but there was no imposition. It is always difficult to ask for help and humbling to admit one’s need to others. But in doing so, my friends gave me the gift of a beautiful life-giving morning filled with hugs, laughter, and play.

The father of these two sweet little girls preached Sunday morning about the ways in which relationships reflect the unfolding narrative of the gospel:  We were created for relationship, relationships were broken by the fall, the gospel heals and reconciles our relationships with God and one another, and in the consummation of the new heavens and new earth all relationships will be fully restored. He said:

As human beings created in God’s image, we were made for relationships and community.  We reflect God’s image when we are in community as the Trinity is in community.

In relationships, within the community of the body of Christ, we understand more fully the gift of the gospel. Living in the kingdom of God with its upside-down paradoxical principles we begin to witness and experience its many beauties.  In giving there is gain. In serving, we are blessed. In laying down our lives—our time, treasure, and possessions—we receive life.  In acknowledging need, we let go of the pretense of self-sufficiency and begin to understand our dependence on Christ and on others. In admitting our failures and asking for forgiveness, we receive reconciliation and healing. And on one beautiful summer morning while sitting on the floor playing Hungry, Hungry, Hippos with a sweet child, I sensed restoration of the years in my life that the locusts had eaten--ones that had passed by ever-so-quickly when my own dear ones were little.

Joining with Michelle @ Graceful in her Hear It, Use It community:

And, for the first time, my friend Laura @ Wellsprings who shares her Playdates with God:

With L.L. Barkat @ Seedlings in Stone for On, In, and Around Mondays:

 

And continuing to count with Ann the multitude of gifts:

906. A dinner party with friends that felt like a foretaste of heaven.

907. Sunshine after many days of rain.

908. Daughter’s friends filling the house with life and laughter (even if she wasn’t here to join them)

909. Music festivals.

910. Son doing his thing, bringing joy to others.

911. A car load of sweet, funny middle school boys.

912. Music and picnic at local vineyard on a perfect summer evening.

913. Smoked seafood dip.

914. Garlic hummus.

915. Jazz.

916. Kids making their own fun.

917. Getting to play with two sweet girls.

918. The wave of a school girl from a bus.

919. Swings.

920. Handmade pottery.

921. Graduation party on a beautiful afternoon—good food, good conversation, dear friends.

922. The gang of fine young men and women surrounding the graduate.

923. A place to stay.

924. Beloved pastor returning to church following successful surgery.

925. Barbecue pizza with rock star diva girlfriend and family on yet another perfect evening.

926. Brave men and women who serve this country.

927. Those who gave all.