The Playground Game

I think, quite possibly, that I may actually be an adult now. I’m not sure when this happened, but it doesn’t seem right. I don’t feel like an adult. As far as I’m concerned, I may as well still have the body of a 13-year-old, because my eyes are still seeing things that 13-year-olds like, and my brain is telling me that I like them too. I’m just going to go ahead and call that “young at heart,” and therefore, a blessing. On the adult side of things though, I’ve gained this weird intuition about stuff that I never had before as a kid. Maybe my overall scope of life is just broadening the older I get. Or maybe, I was bitten by a radioactive spider and now have the “spidey sense” which propels me into hero mode, determined to protect my loved ones from the harsh realities of the world. One thing I know of for sure though—parenthood kicks this sense into super-duper-maximum-hyperdrive.

The other day I took my five-year-old son, Connor, who is my only child, to a park that is not far from where we live. I sat and watched as he bounded over to two boys who were within his age range, so happy that he got his father’s extraverted personality rather than mommy’s hesitant one. He asked them to play, and my heart sank when they ran away from him, snickering. My “adult intuition” kicks in and I see it as an obvious brush-off, therefore Connor should just leave them alone and find someone else who wants to play. My kid though (bless his heart) saw it as a fun game, and therefore chased them all over the playground. As I continued to watch, the boys got meaner whenever Connor came closer and told him to go away. It was all I could do to keep myself planted on the bench, but I thought—no. He needs to learn how to deal with these types of situations, especially with kindergarten on the horizon. With a sharp eye on every move they made, I watched as one of the boys got on one end of a see-saw and called for the other boy. When he didn’t come, Connor took it upon himself to sit on the other end. The boy shouted for him to get off, followed up by the other boy who ran up and tried to push him off. Enter Mama Bear. I told both boys that Connor had a right to play too, which threw water on the fire, but then they both jumped off, ran away and just continued to ridicule him whenever he tried to approach them. Connor finally retreated, and looked for other kids who might be willing to play. It was difficult; most children were already there with friends or siblings, and were not interested in letting in anyone new. Connor and I left the park both feeling kind of defeated.

This part of parenthood is still new to me since my child isn’t quite in school yet. The entire way home I kept thinking about how mean and unfair it was that he, or any kid, should be treated like that. And then it hit me. I see this happen all the time to adults as well—at school, work, and even church. In fact, I’ve seen it happen at pretty much every church I’ve ever been to. Not so much in the form of laughing and snickering when new people walk in, but definitely in body language, such as not making eye contact or closing in a conversing group of friends. Then I started thinking…do I do this? Do I? When newbies walk into my church, do I run to greet and welcome them, or do I run backstage so as to avoid the possible awkwardness of meeting someone new? When I’m in my Sunday school class, do I walk right over to the people I don’t recognize and introduce myself, or do I make a beeline for my best friends and start gushing about the events of my week? Sadly, it’s more often the latter. It’s so easy to fall into this little “playground game” of only sticking with the people you already know. They make you feel secure, loved and appreciated. Stepping out to embrace someone new is indeed a challenge, but it is absolutely necessary if we are to become more Christ-like. Sure, I know all about Matthew 22:39, where Jesus calls us to “‘Love your neighbor as yourself,’” and I do. Well if I do, then why don’t I show it? I read a quote by Mother Teresa the other day that really got my attention. She said:
“Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat."

Then she went on to say: 
“We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love. If you want a love message to be heard, it has got to be sent out. To keep a lamp burning, we have to keep putting oil in it. Let us always meet each other with smile, for the smile is the beginning of love.”

I may not be able to drop everything on my plate in order to take a new friend out for lunch the very day I meet them. But I can welcome them, ask them questions, and listen to their answers. Make it a point to remember their name. It takes such simple acts to show love, and it starts with the willingness for Jesus to use you. As much as I want the kids at the playground to break the circle of exclusion and allow my son to play, I need to break the ones into which I tend to withdraw myself—at church, work, school, my neighborhood, or wherever. I’ve got to let go of myself and my own self-centeredness, and be the living expression of God’s kindness in how I treat others. Hopefully then, the joy I have from the amazing grace that He gives me on a daily basis will spill out onto them as well. 

So how do you treat new people who walk into your life or church? I dare you to ask God to break your own heart for them, too. Are you ready? Are you willing to step out of your own “comfort box” and let Him guide you onto whatever path of love lies ahead?

"I am not sure exactly what heaven will be like, but I know that when we die and it comes time for God to judge us, he will not ask, 'How many good things have you done in your life?' rather he will ask, 'How much love did you put into what you did?'"
 -Mother Teresa