“Where’s my dolly?” I hollered as I walked through the aisles of the Christian bookstore where I worked.
It was the summer between my Freshman and Sophomore year in college. The store had been closed for the week while we moved from one location to a bigger, better one just “one mile down the road” as the sign put it. Not having a family or any other things tieing me down, I spent every possible waking hour at the move. I clocked more hours than any of the managers that week. The new store was opening in two days; it was nearly 8:00 p.m. and I was getting a bit punchy.
“Where’s my dolly?”
“Here it is!” called a young-dad-co-worker while holding up a package containing an actual doll. I giggled. He giggled. Within minutes I found the hand-truck (or dolly as I grew up calling them) and was back to work moving stacks of boxes. Two hours later I was in the storage unit behind the store preparing to batten down the hatches so I could go blearily home to find a pillow…any pillow.
“Thom, don’t grow up.” It was a simple statement, but it caught me off guard. I’d spent years listening to people tell me to “grow up!” or “act my shoe size not my age!” (I wore a size 15 shoe 4 years before I turned 15!) Here was someone telling me otherwise.
“What?” I didn’t know whether to be offended or not.
“Thom,” my co-worker started again, noticing my confusion, “I’ve watched many people grow up and get in God’s way. They get stuck in their ways and become a problem within the church. Keep your childlike, not childish, outlook on life. Don’t grow up.”
Every few years, God steers my memories back to that night. Many times as a reminder, sometimes as a warning. This reckoning has been the latter. It all started with a Casting Crowns concert and ended with the movie Christopher Robin, now out in theaters. I did not want to see this movie. I tasked my oldest with taking his younger brothers so that I could have a couple hours of peace and productivity. That’s not what happened. As God engineered the day, I ended up at the theater with all of my children waiting for the like re-telling – or rather continued telling – of the “bear of very little brains.” I knew I’d end up crying at the movie. Lately, I’ve been crying at telephone commercials! I wasn’t prepared for the lesson God set up for me, or rather, I wasn’t expecting it. God’s timing is always on point.
As I watched the movie, I was intrigued by something I’d never seen in Winnie the Pooh or his friends. Each one represents a specific emotion or state of childhood – except Kanga who represents mothers. As God opened my eyes to the profound message He’d laid out for me, I began to ponder these past two weeks and the lesson God’s been trying to teach me. As Piglet’s fear took center stage, followed by Eeyore’s melancholy, and Rabbit’s bossiness and practicality, I began to see myself wandering among the emotions of grief, guilt, single parenting, and exhaustion. I was struggling to see how the rest of Pooh’s friend fit into what God was showing me. When little Roo and Tigger bounded onto the screen, Mark 10: 13ff came at me: “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone, who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”
At that moment, each of the characters in Pooh’s Hundred Acre Wood morphed into the faces of my children at different periods in their life. I saw the exuberance of life, the life-giving joy and wisdom, and the bone-crushing grief and fear. I turned my head in the theater; rivers were washing my cheeks and landing on my collar.
God, I silently prayed, have I grown up and gotten into Your way?!? It was somewhat of a panicked prayer. How can I help my boys best in the upcoming days, weeks, and months? The answer seemed quite obvious. I feel ashamed to admit that the answer was terribly, painfully obvious. Good dads MUST have the faith of a child! And they must view the world through the eyes of a child…God’s child.
I felt pretty stupid sitting there in the theater crying, especially over something so blatantly obvious. After putting my boys to bed after the movie, I crawled up into Abba God’s lap and let Him play with what’s left of my hair while I told him of my fears, my sins, and my dreams for the boys.
I don’t know if God deals with you the same way He deals with me. You probably are much more mature in your walk with Him and your mutual communication probably doesn’t include “walking” or rather talking in circles. This reckoning for me — a re-defined definition and purpose of daddy — has left me with Hope and renewed vigor. Tomorrow I might screw everything up as a dad, but if I go to Abba God first with my wins and failures, He makes all things good for “those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). To sum up, to be a good daddy, I’ve got to remember I’m a child myself, and I’ve got to return to a view of the world through the eyes and faith of a child. That’s the best gift I can give my boys right now.
Good Grief?!? 