A Time to Weep

Today there is weeping. Not just crying, but weeping. A weeping that comes because there is no other way to adequately express what is going on inside of us. When we feel sorrow beyond words, we weep.

Today, sadly, we weep for children.

These children who lost their lives today in Connecticut were not my children. I don’t even know their names. But they could have been my children. Or yours. We can't even begin to imagine what living that horror must be like.

And so we weep.

Senseless acts such as this are heard of far too often. Perhaps at times we are guilty of having grown horribly and inexcusably numb to hearing about it.

But today was different.

Today was Kindergarten.

We do not know all the details, and we don’t have to know them. I don't care if I ever know them.

All I need to know is that Today we will grieve with these families, we will pray for them, and we will weep with them. These were American kids at an American school that experienced what should never ever be. These are all the details I need to know.

I am reminded of an old hymn by Albert Midlane:

"There’s a Friend for little children Above the bright blue sky, A Friend who never changes, Whose love will never die;"

And then I remembered that Jesus wept. Jesus wept specifically for a friend who had died. And then I thought that somewhere today, Jesus must be weeping. It has been said that there is a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow, that He knows and dearly loves every one of them, and that not one falls without His knowing. Each life is precious.

In this dark hour, we know that there is hope waiting at the end of tragedy.

We know sorrow will one day give way to peace.

But for today, we pray for comfort, we offer comfort, and we weep.

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Pulling Weeds and Planting Men

  It may sound strange, but I am thankful for weeds.

Weeds are a fact of life. Like unwelcome visitors, they show up unannounced and make themselves right at home, spurning the fact that they were not invited. As men, we take pride in our lawns, and each year millions of dollars are spent on products that claim to rid our otherwise pristine properties of these pesky intruders. Yet despite our best efforts, they just keep coming back.

With the holidays approaching, and Christmas decorations anxiously waiting to go on display, I planned one last ‘weekend cleanup’ of our front yard. Most of that cleanup would involve clearing out our flowerbeds, which have been actively overrun by these un-welcome visitors, and mowing the lawn one last time until Spring.

So when Saturday morning arrived I told my two boys that we would be doing lawn work, and surprisingly they didn’t run away in disgust. I anticipated a backlash, but they were actually excited about doing it. Which baffled me a little bit, but I didn’t complain. Maybe they just like the idea of getting dirty without being in trouble for it.

Who knows?

My wife actually had the crazy idea that I should let my oldest son mow the yard, which I hadn’t even thought of before. I have been so used to doing it myself for decades that I didn’t even notice how excited he was at the prospect of it, or that he was old enough.

So, after a cup of coffee, and wearing my oldest, junkiest ripped up jeans and an old, itchy flannel shirt that was once my Dad's, I got down in the dirt with my boys and we went to work on this crisp Autumn day. By the time we came back in, we were dirty, tired and hungry, but we had a few bags full of weeds and a mowed lawn to show for it. But thinking about it now, we had much more than that.

For starters, my oldest son mowed the lawn by himself for the first time. There is a certain pride in that, and I can remember to this day the first time I mowed when I was a kid. It is a milestone of sorts to push that mower I had seen my Dad push so many times.

I showed my youngest son that it is possible to get filthy dirty, dig around in the yard looking for night crawlers, and still be working.

I showed them that I see worth and value in who they are by letting them do work, and expecting they can do it just as well as I can. We told stories and laughed, and I have officially passed down to them the fine skills of pulling weeds and mowing the lawn. Which I will readily remind them of next summer.

As Dads, it is our job to build up our children, and this Saturday became an unexpected opportunity to do just that. Working together with our kids, teaching them even small things, and telling them stories about when we were kids, accomplishes this in a small way.

Which is why I am thankful for weeds.

(Previously published at http://playgrounddad.com/pulling-weeds-and-planting-men/)

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