Weekend Kindness
Reaching Others Through Kindness

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Psalm 127
Unless the LORD builds the house, They labor in vain who build it; Unless the LORD guards the city, The watchman keeps awake in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, To retire late, To eat the bread of painful labors; For He gives to His beloved {even in his} sleep. Behold, children are a gift of the LORD, The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, So are the children of one’s youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; They will not be ashamed When they speak with their enemies in the gate.

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My dad has always been great about spending quality time with my brother and me. Very often at bedtime, my dad would lay down in the middle of one of the kids’ beds and we’d each lay on either side of him, staring at the ceiling. My dad would reminisce about growing up on a small farm in Abilene, Kansas. He had so many stories to share with us, and they were always fascinating since my brother and I were raised in the city. I think my dad is the best storyteller there ever was.

Here’s one of his classics, as I remember it:

The Space-Test Rooster

Your grandmother would go to town to the Farmer’s Market on Sunday afternoons. One day when she came back, she had brought back some chicken eggs. That wasn’t so unusual. What was unusual was that the eggs were banty eggs.

Every animal on a farm has its purpose. It may be to lay eggs, produce milk, or work in the field. A banty chicken is much smaller than a normal chicken and is usually raised for show, not to lay eggs. So why your grandmother bought these little eggs, we’ll never know.

One by one, the eggs hatched and every one was a hen, except for one rooster. Since banty roosters are so much smaller than normal roosters, they have to be much more mean and aggressive to keep from getting picked on by the big roosters. This rooster was no exception. He thought he was the biggest, baddest guy in the whole yard.

I was about six years old and my brother was about four. Your grandfather would send us out to the barns and haylofts to get different supplies and help around the farm. Since we were so young and the doors were heavy, we’d only push them open far enough for us to squeeze in and out.

Whenever my brother or I were in the barns alone, the little rooster would stand in the crack in the doorway and block our escape route. Now, even though he was smaller than an ordinary rooster, he was vicious. He had a bad attitude and his beak and claws were dangerous. And to a six year old kid, he looked huge. We’d have to simply run for it and try to get past the rooster without getting too beat up.

My brother and I would tell your grandfather whenever the rooster attacked us, but since the rooster only attacked one of us at a time, grandfather didn’t believe it was as bad as we’d said. Well, one day, the banty made the mistake of cornering both of us together. After we got away from him, we both went to your grandfather and told him what happened.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s take him for a space-test.”

Your grandfather went to the barn and grabbed a five gallon bucket, went out to the yard, grabbed that little rooster, plopped him down into the bucket, and spun the bucket around and around and around and around. Then he dumped the dizzy rooster onto the ground.

He took two steps and fell over. You could watch his eyes and tell that the world was spinning like a top. He just laid there for a while, then, when the world stopped moving, he jumped up and took off running! He made a beeline away from the farmyard and disappeared over the hill. We never saw that poor rooster again.

Although it’s not so much the story that matters as the time spent with us, my dad was able to bring us for moments at a time into the world in which he grew up. I swear, sometimes my dad was magical. He gave us parts of himself that, no matter what happens, are ours to cherish. He sure knew how to make a kid feel special.

As the mother of a spunky, active, never seeming to sit down for even a moment toddler, my days are often spent averting minor disasters, cleaning up messes, and keeping my lively little girl out of harm’s way. Throughout all of this chaotic activity, I have quickly learned that rolling up my sleeves, putting us both in old shirts, and making messes is *the* guaranteed way to keep my daughter giggling for hours and to let her know just what a valued and special treasure she is to me. In recent months, we have done a whole host of crafty, messy, wet, sticky, and slimy activities together, but there have been a special few that she has loved the most.

Fingerpainting- Although many of my friends have called me brave for breaking out the fingerpaints with a one year old, I have absolutely had a blast alongside Peapod in our painting adventures.

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In a fast moving society like today, it can be easy to go through the motions of life without thinking much. Wake up. Get the kids off to school. Pick the kids up. Go to soccer practice. Eat a quick dinner. Head off to a church activity. Go home and get to bed, so you can do it all over the next day.

As parents we need to make sure we stop frequently to really connect with our kids. It’s not enough to make sure they’re in the right schools, on the right athletic teams, and going to the right church activities. Kids crave interaction and attention from their parents, even if they don’t act like it.

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When I dally with memories of childhood, it’s not music lessons, or time spent “on the go”, or birthday and Christmas gifts that come to mind. It’s all the simple things. Helping my grandma rake leaves into big piles, riding my bike to the library with my dad, enjoying my mom’s fresh baked breads and the feel of her hands playing with my hair during church…

I think sometimes organized activities take away more than they give. In making each moment count for something, we lose track of what’s sacred. We fill our lives and our minds, but what about our souls? Sometimes you have to have *time* to stop, in order to recapture the magic of “appreciating the ordinary”.

Here are some places to start, a word of warning though: Plans very often need adjusted, and sometimes the best memories are messy. (more…

Life as a railroad family can be a little hectic. My husband comes and goes with the trains, sometimes staying for as little as 6 1/2 hours before being called away again. And of course, somewhere in there he needs to get some sleep. It is his job that allows me to stay home with the children while also not having to worry too much about personal finances. Children, however, tend to be very concrete. They only know that the train is what takes daddy away. And daddy knows that “I love you” over the phone doesn’t mean as much as wrestling on the couch. While nothing can quite replace that, my husband has found ways to tell the children they are special and that he is thinking of them despite the separation.

Their favorite? Gifts, of course!

These gifts, however, are not generally items that you could find in a store. In fact, it is rare that they have any real material value. A lump of coal or interesting rock found while walking the tracks, a menu from the restaurant he ate breakfast at, a brochure from the hotel, a map, a penny, and a walnut have all become treasured possessions. While they are frequent, they are not quite routine…and my husband does not even necessarily bring something for each child when he does bring something home. Our oldest stores away her treasures, as she calls them, to draw out when she misses her father. The younger ones tend to drag them around until they are worn to nothing or finally lost, which has been the fate of all of the postcards he has sent thus far. So much for the album I was trying to make for them!

These simple gifts do not represent anything of material value. Instead, they demonstrate that their father thinks of them while he is away in a very tangible way. And while they cannot give him a hug every day, they can clasp a walnut, flip a coin or recite the lines off the back of a postcard while they wait for his next phone call.

One way that you can show your parents that you care about them is to keep in regular contact with them.  We all seem to do a good job of this when it’s the holiday season and we’re thinking about it, but I was touched when my old pastor said that he called his mother every Sunday morning before church just to check in and see how she was doing.  He did this until the day she died.

So, whoever your dad (or mom) is, make sure to give them a call, tell them how much you love them by saying it or spending time just talking with them.  They’ll be glad that you did.

Won’t they, Jenna?