Stuff You See On The Sidewalk...

When leaving the church this afternoon, I noticed a white truck as it whipped into a parking space. Our church houses 2 after-school programs: 1 for middle school students that we manage and another for younger children that's managed by an outside business. (They rent our buildings, so to speak.)

This particular truck pulled into the "younger" program parking, and I wouldn't have normally noticed, but because I was about to leave, I was watching out for after-school traffic.

I see a guy, a "dad," get out of the truck and head into the building. From the passenger seat, his son gets out and starts following. I was too far away to hear the exchange, but my six years as a father allowed me the unique ability to immediately comprehend the situation.

I watched as the dad's shoulders slumped and spoke through a sigh:

"Get back in the truck."

The son made some sort of retort, something like I-want-to-come-too or I-have-to-go-to-the-bathroom, to which Dad again spoke, this time with exasperation all over his face. This time he pointed, too.

"GET back in the truck."

The son, fearing grounding or worse, darted back to the truck, but I couldn't help feeling for them both.

I saw a tired dad. A guy who's had to wear that stupid tie all day and who's looking at another hour or so of running errands, picking up groceries and getting kids home in time for dinner. A guy who probably isn't paid enough to justify the hours he puts in. I saw myself in that guy.

I feel for the guy - I think most moms and dads can totally identify with that exasperated state wherein all we want is simply for the kids to obey, but I also ended up for feeling sorry for the kid, too, because his dad just looked bothered. He looked as if he didn't want anything to do with his son.

I suddenly remembered all those times in my life when I speak out of my exhaustion - times where I'm tired and I seemingly want everyone to know it...even the people I love the most.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I told myself not to over analyze, not to try to color that scene with my emotions. But I couldn't help it.

All I could think of was how horrified I would be if folks saw me acting like that to my kids. I don't mind disciplining my kids (even in public) if need be, but I hope to never communicate in any shape, form or fashion that I'm tired of them.

These two little ones are absolute gifts from God. Both of them protected through stressful and life-threatening illnesses; both of them granted with intelligence and humor and eyes that shine like nothing I've seen before or since; both of them God's and loaned to Krist and me for a time. I may grow tired, but they'll not ever think they've somehow sunk in importance...that they're bothering me...that they are a nuisance.

So, thanks to you, Dad and Son. Your little exchange on the church sidewalk today might have been kinda' ugly, but it was just the reminder I needed. I hope you both get some sleep tonight and end up playing together very soon.