Saturday, November 9, 2013

The Monster Pond

The afternoon rains ended and blue skies reappeared just as we finished an early family dinner many years ago. From their vantage point in the sunroom where we had eaten, our young sons noticed the water at the end of our drive. It was a drainage problem that couples with more maturity or money would have already fixed. We, who had neither, had cheerily marketed it to our children as the Monster Pond.

Undaunted by the name, our boys asked if they could play in the water. Not too distantly removed from our own childhood to have fond memories of playing in puddles, my husband and I agreed, took off their shirts and sent them out to play while we enjoyed our after dinner coffee. From where we sat, we could see them from the waist up and kept protective and adoring eyes on them as they splashed in Monster Pond.

We had just moved into this do-it-yourself dream home. Our scant furniture was in place, and we were eager to begin the life-long process of restoring this homestead of disrepair. We envisioned building a life here from childrearing to retirement. We could hardly wait to meet the neighbors.

With delight we noted the friendliness of the steady stream of people who drove by as they arrived home from work. Each slowed down, waved enthusiastically and smiled broadly at our blonde-headed boys.

Soon enough I stepped outside to get my little guys for bath and bed. From the driveway I saw my very thoughtful children had removed their shorts and were cavorting completely naked near the street. The sight added new meaning to the neighbors’ waves and smiles.

Posting a daily blog feels a little like cavorting naked in a monster pond—although hopefully with a more laudable purpose. As I dance with words, I am baring my soul to a growing body of readers who wave and smile.

I wouldn’t want to write from a less revealing perspective. If my blogs are an intimate reflection of my thoughts on life, then I must be increasingly dependent on God. The unacceptable alternative would be to fabricate a story or present I truth I do not own.

This is the decision I am making from the Monster Pond. ‘I will only give from what I live.’ Thanks for letting me share my life—even if it is revealing more than you want to see.

So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you had become very dear to us. 1 Thessalonians 2:8