I have a thing for Slurpees - those frozen confections of the Coke variety. I'm sorry to admit this. I wonder if excessive submission to Slurpee temptation has affected my brain. You know, too many brain freezes?
Yesterday I
followed four-year-old Calvin up the stairs to his bedroom. As we climbed, he
reminded me that we were going to make little minions out of polymer clay.
“Oh
yeah, that’s right,” I said as we stepped onto the landing.
He
turned to me and said, “Gummy, I think my brain is better than yours.” He said it somewhat apologetically, like he
was sorry this was the case but we would just have to live with it.
“I
know, Buddy. Good thing I have you
around,”
I
think on some level he felt a prompting that such a statement might not be
socially prudent. He tried to explain:
“I mean, things just stay in my brain. So many things.” He pursed his eyebrows as he said this, and I
was tempted to take him in my arms and tell him I was so sorry. It has been obvious to us since he was very
little, talking in full paragraphs at 18 months old, that he had a gift for
communicating. And with that gift we also learned that he had a memory like a
magnet and life was just a pile of tiny metal shavings. Poor boy.
Fortunately
for Calvin - the master of logic and memory who is trapped in a pre-school body - he has Beth for a sister.
Beth is two. Her passions are the color pink and
princesses. She is fearless and funny,
and she adores Calvin. Today the two of
them ran around the back yard of their home in Spokane, (where I am visiting)
in search of the Easter eggs their daddy had hidden. By the time they had collected all the eggs my
heart was just a puddle on the back porch. Beth would spy a purple egg up in the branches of a tree, and Calvin
would reach up, grab it, and put it in her basket. When Cal found an egg before Bethy did, she
would squeal “Good job, Bud!” It was
almost unreal how sweet they were to each other, and how joyful they each were
for the other’s success. I wondered
silently if these were the same children I had taken to the play place in the
mall last night.
Tonight as Jordon, Annie and I sat talking at the close of this Easter Sunday, we were
recounting the joys and challenges of these treasures God entrusted to their
care. We were recollecting Calvinisms
through the last few years. Then Annie lamented: “I’m worried… I mean seriously
worried… about Calvin’s spiritual future.” When I asked her why, she replied
that he was just so logical. And
intelligent. She was worried that he
would try to find logic in the gospel of Christ and…well, that it might come up short. So many adversaries of the Word use words to
explain Him away. Beth, well, she’s all heart. People with heart and a propensity for goodness
find easy access to direction from the Holy Spirit. But the minds of scientists are frightening
to us who are feeling-based. Today when
we were reading a book about dinosaurs Calvin commented that perhaps he would
be a scientist when he grows up. That powerful left brain can do marvelous
things.
I’ve
been pondering Annie’s words tonight, while I whisper prayers for her and
Jordon and Cal and Beth. I’m thinking
about some of the most intelligent people I know. People whose left brains (the side of logic)
are well oiled and purring inside their heads. I’m married to one of these. And
the Spirit reminds me that this man, who is brilliant, wipes the tears from his
eyes in movies, at church, during Hallmark commercials and even ball games far more than I do! In fact, next to Dave, I feel like a
calloused Neanderthal.
Not that I know anything about the human brain and its
functions, or even that much about the feeling heart. But it is apparent to me that logic does not
have the intrinsic power to override feelings. We tend to categorize things,
and people, saying they are either logical or passionate. I believe we do ourselves a disservice in this. So I am telling myself to cut it out! Quit categorizing!
I
want Calvin to know that his brain, which is for sure better than mine, is no
more important than his heart. His Momma
is a perfect example of the power of the heart to work hand in hand with the
brain. She is gifted in her work, highly
respected in her field, and renowned for her technique as a therapist in Speech
Language Pathology. But her sweet spot, the place where she hits home-runs in
life, rests in the tender part of her chest. Let your heart lead you, little
man, and then your brain.
And
speaking of brains, I’ve heard we humans generally do not use our's to their full
capacity. Not by a long shot. I’m thinking that if we are only using a
portion of our brain's potential, that there is much we are not able to understand, and
perhaps are not yet supposed to understand, that will one day be available to us. One of the things that intrigues me about my David is that he is not
bothered by unanswered questions. If his
heart is at ease, he is not disturbed that his brain does not comprehend
certain things. He believes, without apologies, that the Lord will fill in the blanks in His own time. For a man with a brain that makes it
impossible for anyone to beat him in word games, he sure has a simple kind of
faith.
Calvin,
there will be things you will not be able to figure out down the road. Maybe even tomorrow morning. Let that be
ok. Trust that God knows how it all fits
together, and that one day He will share it with us when we are able to
understand it.
I
see myself in 1000 years or so, looking back on major questions I have about my
church, my life, and the many weaknesses I have that I cannot overcome. I see
my brain, which by then may be functioning closer to capacity (having been removed from the "brain freeze" of humanness), understanding
what is not logical to me now. I see
myself saying “Duh, why didn’t I think of that back then?”
For
now, because I am basically a four year old spirit in a senior citizen body, I
have chosen to trust that even though I don’t understand certain things,
Someone does. And He has asked me to
trust Him.
And
so I do. And so should you, boy of my
heart!
______________________________________________________________________
This,
my dears, is the last of my Lent writing for 2016. It is currently 2:30 am and Calvin will be
jumping on my bed in a couple hours. I have spilled my brains and my heart into
this exercise and shared it with the people I love as a token of gratitude to
my Lord for the capacity to communicate. I think it is marvelous that we get to
interlace our lives and thoughts with each other. I am living proof that by communicating
with others, we understand more about ourselves.
These
past 40 days of writing combine to represent my hopes and desires; concepts
that I wish to take with me to the hereafter, and that I also wish to leave to
my posterity. I have too much physical
stuff hanging around my house (my poor family knows this!) You can toss all of
it when I am gone. But these words? They
speak my heart, unedited and written most often after very long and tiring
days. Forgive my mistakes and lack of literary finesse. Take whatever nuggets
are useful and inspiring and keep them.
They are what I would put in your HOPE CHESTS and mine. I love you all, and I do love my Lord.