We recently went camping, and when we arrived, I immediately walked around the campsite doing my usual "research." To me campsites are archeological digs. There are all kinds of little clues left behind in the dirt about the people who came before us and what they did there. I find forgotten tent stakes, beverage can tabs, little collections of gathered acorns or pine cones or stones, broken toys, barrettes and hairbands, sometimes a coin or two. As I walk around and kick the dirt, I try to imagine the people and their stories.
This time I found a lost inflator pin (For a football? Did Dad and the kids toss it around? Or was it for a bicycle tire? Did the kids ride around the campground or down to the camp store?), a broken superhero toy (His hands were missing!? Were they broken off digging for buried treasure or during an especially violent battle with the evil villain?), a black hairband and a yellow plastic bread clip (I imagined mom making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at the picnic table).
But then I found something even more intriguing. I found these two rocks under the picnic table.
As I looked around further, I found other painted rocks, obviously decorated by children. But these two rocks, with the very cute artwork, I think were drawn by an adult, or maybe a teen – an older sibling tasked with occupying the little ones, or maybe an aunt or uncle? Whoever it was is very talented and has a lovely sense of humor. For some reason, I imagined the aunt.
I imagined her doing a craft with the kids instead of something fun with the "grownups," sacrificing in order to relieve some kid-boredom and give mom a break. I could see her making herself like a child, getting down on their level, by drawing the simple stick figures. And I think she made them laugh. The smiles still radiate from the drawings. They make me smile too.
The fact that her rocks were left behind in the dirt causes me to think that she didn't consider them important but was focused on the kids. I bet she effusively praised all their efforts. I bet she begged them to let her have one of their painted rocks to take home with her. I bet it is displayed in a special place right now.
In the end, all the stuff we leave behind - the toys and the money and the collections of objects – will be forgotten. Even the brokenness from our battles will have lost its hold. But you know what we really will leave behind? – how we loved. The relationships, the sacrifices, the memories of laughter and encouragement and compassion. That's something those kids will remember long into adulthood. The people who leave those things behind are the real superheroes and they will most likely be broken ones.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13:13
No comments:
Post a Comment