During my message in this morning's worship service, I challenged the Lighthouse congregation to spend some quality time today with someone who needed it. I hate to say it, but for my family, that referred directly to us. Tiffany, Ethan, & I have been so busy with a myriad of things (all positive, mind you) that we haven't been able to spend a lot of quality time together. Between both of our jobs, school, church activities, karate, and cub scouts, we have been like Toyotas passing in the streets. So today, as soon as we got home and I got the pertinent Sunday afternoon work put to bed, the three of us went out for a fun-filled family afternoon, sans my second brain, AKA, my Blackberry.
We went to Junction Lanes in Newnan for some bowling and arcade games. Since we're making some necessary ch-ch-ch-changes in our eating, we snacked before we left. When we got to the bowling alley, we each got our shoes, picked out a ball (something was wrong with mine, it was lopsided; that's the only explanation I can come up with for how often it landed in the gutter), and went to our assigned lane. We bowled til our heart's content, leaving me with a smile as Ethan learned that real bowling isn't quite as easy as it is on the Wii. But I digress.
After bowling, and hoping to erase the sting of getting pounded so completely by my wife (who took bowling as a PE elective in college; that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it) we headed over to the arcade game to blow those last few dollars I had in my pocket.
Ethan took his tokens and proceeded to carefully pick out the games he wanted to play. Bear in mind he is quite deliberate when making such choices -- he isn't one to just blow through his tokens. He ended up settling on skee ball. He spent virtually all of his tokens on the skee ball machines.
As he was on his last token, he looked at Tiffany and me, and then invited us to take turns with him throwing his last round of skee ball. It touched my heart deeply. We were taking time out of our insanely crazy schedules to spend time with him and him alone. He rewarded us by sharing the precious last several throws at the skee ball machine with his last token. It was sweet.
He racked up quite a few tickets. Once we counted them all up, we went to the redemption center to see what kind of junk my pocket money was going to turn into, compliments of the Junction Lane Arcade machines. There was this one item he really wanted and was jumping up-and-down with glee at the thought of acquiring this little toy. The only problem was he was one short. ONE lousy ticket!
Tiff and I both went through our pockets hoping against hope we could come up with another quarter so Ethan could get that last ticket he needed, but to no avail. I then began formulating my plea in hopes that the man behind the counter would be so gracious as to grant a generous little 7-year-old his heart's desire. I don't like doing that kind of thing, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The look in my son's eye, thinking he would not be united with that piece of plastic and paper, was enough to motivate any calloused heart to action. And then it became unnecessary.
I spun in a circle there at the redemption counter as though I would find the words to what I needed to say on the walls, ceiling, or anywhere else for that matter. And then I heard the squeal of my one-and-only as he realized I was standing on one lonely renegade ticket. I don't remember seeing it before, but it was there then. As I moved my foot totally out of the way I could not recall seeing that ticket there before, but it was there then. He squatted down, one knee practically touching the floor, and picked up the ticket with a hand full of excitement and wonder.
I looked at Tiffany and said, "manna from heaven", referring to God's promise to Moses in Exodus 16 that He would provide for the Israelite's needs on their wilderness journey. Exodus 16.4 says, "Then the LORD said to Moses, 'I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions."
I could not help but draw a parallel to my practicing what I preached, Ethan's generosity in including his parents in his last skee ball token, and the mysterious arrival of that last necessary ticket, but I'll tell you this: it is 100% true.
When we get so caught up in our daily activities that we neglect those who need us the most, we certainly are being pin-headed. But when we take some time -- in our case less than two hours -- to invest in someone who really needs it, well, that's a gift that has a way of multiplying itself.
My bowling score was putrid -- Tiffany beat me by some 40 pins (did I mention that my ball must have been lopsided and she took bowling for college credit?) -- but the afternoon was a resounding success because we were together, free from interruptions and distractions. I really want to impress upon you to do the same. It's time, and in our specific case, money well spent. And you never know when you might just be paid a visit by the Divine.
We went to Junction Lanes in Newnan for some bowling and arcade games. Since we're making some necessary ch-ch-ch-changes in our eating, we snacked before we left. When we got to the bowling alley, we each got our shoes, picked out a ball (something was wrong with mine, it was lopsided; that's the only explanation I can come up with for how often it landed in the gutter), and went to our assigned lane. We bowled til our heart's content, leaving me with a smile as Ethan learned that real bowling isn't quite as easy as it is on the Wii. But I digress.
After bowling, and hoping to erase the sting of getting pounded so completely by my wife (who took bowling as a PE elective in college; that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it) we headed over to the arcade game to blow those last few dollars I had in my pocket.
Ethan took his tokens and proceeded to carefully pick out the games he wanted to play. Bear in mind he is quite deliberate when making such choices -- he isn't one to just blow through his tokens. He ended up settling on skee ball. He spent virtually all of his tokens on the skee ball machines.
As he was on his last token, he looked at Tiffany and me, and then invited us to take turns with him throwing his last round of skee ball. It touched my heart deeply. We were taking time out of our insanely crazy schedules to spend time with him and him alone. He rewarded us by sharing the precious last several throws at the skee ball machine with his last token. It was sweet.
He racked up quite a few tickets. Once we counted them all up, we went to the redemption center to see what kind of junk my pocket money was going to turn into, compliments of the Junction Lane Arcade machines. There was this one item he really wanted and was jumping up-and-down with glee at the thought of acquiring this little toy. The only problem was he was one short. ONE lousy ticket!
Tiff and I both went through our pockets hoping against hope we could come up with another quarter so Ethan could get that last ticket he needed, but to no avail. I then began formulating my plea in hopes that the man behind the counter would be so gracious as to grant a generous little 7-year-old his heart's desire. I don't like doing that kind of thing, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The look in my son's eye, thinking he would not be united with that piece of plastic and paper, was enough to motivate any calloused heart to action. And then it became unnecessary.
I spun in a circle there at the redemption counter as though I would find the words to what I needed to say on the walls, ceiling, or anywhere else for that matter. And then I heard the squeal of my one-and-only as he realized I was standing on one lonely renegade ticket. I don't remember seeing it before, but it was there then. As I moved my foot totally out of the way I could not recall seeing that ticket there before, but it was there then. He squatted down, one knee practically touching the floor, and picked up the ticket with a hand full of excitement and wonder.
I looked at Tiffany and said, "manna from heaven", referring to God's promise to Moses in Exodus 16 that He would provide for the Israelite's needs on their wilderness journey. Exodus 16.4 says, "Then the LORD said to Moses, 'I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions."
I could not help but draw a parallel to my practicing what I preached, Ethan's generosity in including his parents in his last skee ball token, and the mysterious arrival of that last necessary ticket, but I'll tell you this: it is 100% true.
When we get so caught up in our daily activities that we neglect those who need us the most, we certainly are being pin-headed. But when we take some time -- in our case less than two hours -- to invest in someone who really needs it, well, that's a gift that has a way of multiplying itself.
My bowling score was putrid -- Tiffany beat me by some 40 pins (did I mention that my ball must have been lopsided and she took bowling for college credit?) -- but the afternoon was a resounding success because we were together, free from interruptions and distractions. I really want to impress upon you to do the same. It's time, and in our specific case, money well spent. And you never know when you might just be paid a visit by the Divine.
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