Godly Play #2

Yesterday they told me to take my rock again from the center of the circle.  Once we all had our rocks, Caryl told us, “Now put it back and take someone else’s.  Hold that person in prayer all day long today, and over the course of the day, find out whose stone that is and how you can pray for them.” 

All day long I went from participant to participant, extending my open hand before them as if to say, “Am I so fortunate as to hold you in my hand all the day long this day?” 

All I received in return was smiling negation.

Even that was hard.  “Ugh.  I got it wrong again.”

Finally, I had asked almost everyone.  And I began to wonder.  Would the owner of this stone have left already?  Am I certain I have asked everyone?  And then it clicked.  I looked over at Toni and smiled, opened my hand, and asked her, “Is this you?” 

She smiled back.  “I saw you choose it this morning, and I thought you did it on purpose.”

It was like our wedding day all over again.  Yes, I did.  I felt a gooey romantic warmth surge forth, knowing that if I had the chance, I’d choose her all over again, not because I had to, or because it was the right thing to do, but because among all the other choices available, she is the stone to which my heart already belongs.

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Godly Play Workshop, Friday Night

Today is day two of our Godly Play workshop.  Last night we took a stone in our hands from a tray in the center of the circle.  Mine was red, and I was told to look deeply into it.  I saw a dog face in it.  And then I saw a cat face.  And then I rolled it over and over.  “What stands out about it to you?” 

“It looks like a heart,” I said to myself.  And then, more quietly, from deeper inside, I said, “It looks like a shield.”

A shield for my heart?  A shield from heart?  Mental static on the radio inside my head? 

I was ready for both, and thought of Proverbs 4, “Guard your heart with all diligence, for from it flow the wellsprings of life.” 

More soon.

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A Call from Hungary

I’ve got something cookin’ on my heart of late.  I won’t get into what it is…  Just processing some particular little gems in my own life, and it’s the kind of thing I don’t do alone.  I shot off an email to a friend of mine who is in Hungary this week…  A place I’d love to be with my wife at a gathering where people remember how great it is to be in love with Jesus, among other things.

But we’re in Montevideo. 

So, Toni and I were kicked back on the recliner yesterday talking through the finer details of male and female attraction and whether or not attraction really IS or ISN’T a desire to make contact with some repressed part of yourself (yes, we really talk about things like that), when the phone rang.

And it was my friend.  My friend I told not to worry about emailing until he got back from his very busy trip.  And he didn’t email.  He called. 

We only chatted for a few minutes, he needing to be fully in Hungary and me nervous about what the phone bill would be (me of all people). 

But I hung up the phone and swam around in the love.   Man, it is good to be loved from afar.  Someday, I’ll hopefully be less neurotic and whiny than they tell me Henri Nouwen was, but until then, I’ll just keep soaking up the love.

Anybody want to call me from China?

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Hello Goodbye Hello Goodbye…

I just got off the phone with my aunt, who is with my Dad at his doctor’s checkup.  We were all together just a few days ago in Memphis, and now I am back home in Montevideo.

My aunt is leaving tomorrow to go back to New York, and so I wanted to call her and say goodbye.

What’s up with that?  My aunt is in Memphis, leaving for New York, and I am in Montevideo, and I want to call and say goodbye?

I am either the most geographically challenged person in the world or a person living in complete denial. 

She pointed out that tomorrow she will be one time zone closer to me.

Does that mean that I should call her tomorrow and tell her “Welcome back”?

Maybe calling to say good-bye was just my soul’s way of calling to give acknowledgment to the final separation of a wonderful family encounter.  Who knows.  But she is leaving tomorrow, and returning tomorrow, and I am reminded that I miss her.

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