The Fatherhood Theme Park

By Janet Morris Grimes –

Father’s Day. It gets me every time.

As a child, it was as if I was standing outside the gates to a theme park. I see all the families entering, hand-in-hand. Their Daddy clutches the tickets, counting to make sure he has enough for everyone. No one goes in alone. The lines are long, but the wait just makes it better once they click through the turnstiles of triumph.

Costumed characters welcome them with waves and hugs, their plastic faces etched with permanent smiles. But the smiles of the kids are even wider. Cameras capture a thousand photo moments before they reach the first ride. Even walking, together, is an adventure inside the theme park.

The scent of something wonderful wafts over me. Maybe it’s cinnamon. Fudge? Or corn dogs? Definitely a mixture of all of them; as if happiness were a smell. Ten different versions of carousel music provides the soundtrack to the day. Their day.

Screams of delight ruffle through the tall trees that hide the fun things they get to do. Just enough of a roller coaster taunts me from above. A train of silver buggies crank their way to the top. They careen down the other side, twisting in ways I didn’t see coming. Terror turns to thrill on their faces. They line up to do it again. Just because they can.

The sun drops behind the trees, bringing a breeze that didn’t exist before. Maybe it will cool off the sunkissed cheeks of those who are now leaving. Strollers are filled with too many shopping bags to hold the children who once belonged there. Instead, their parents carry them, asleep, draped across their shoulders. The leftovers of something sticky and wonderful still dribbling down their smushed up faces. They wear hats, or ears, or both; something they didn’t have when they arrived.

There expressions reveal the most perfect of days. Content. Exhausted .Together. As if whatever they anticipated before entering was even better than expected….

Peering through the bars is no way to experience a theme park. It’s impossible. I would have given anything to get inside. Not for the rides, the characters, or the ice cream. What I longed for, more than anything, was to be that little girl sitting on top of her father’s shoulders.

But you have to have a ticket to get inside. And I never had a ticket.

This is what it feels like to be fatherless. No matter how many times you watch, from a distance, you can’t imagine yourself being allowed to go inside.

But you know you are missing out on something wonderful.

PRAYER: Father God, bless the fathers and the families that You created. Give them strength to shine for You. Mend any broken relationships, and thank You for being such a loving father to each of us. It is because of You that we know how to love unconditionally.

Trending

By Janet Morris Grimes –

I wonder sometimes how I have gotten to be so predictable.

My Gmail account suggests addresses of people, based on past emails I have sent, who might be interested in the note I am writing and usually Gmail is correct.

Facebook recommends friends based on other people I know and love. More often than not, I am thankful for the new connections.

My phone lists my favorite numbers to call. Correctly.

Even my iPod knows which songs I will play to the end. It’s not unusual to hear a pick from that same artist within the next three or four songs.

My dog gets excited when I pull out my tennis shoes. He tracks down his own leash to make sure I remember that he is supposed to go with me.

My past behavior indicates what I will do in the future.

In the electronic world, this phenomenon is known as ‘trending,’ which means ‘to show a tendency toward something.’

I suppose my tendencies are obvious. My trends are often used against me—even when I invest effort into changing them.

Unfortunately, no one knows my past trends better than Satan. He remembers the last time I was lonely, confused, or doubting. He remembers what triggered my last argument. He reminds me of the failures I have tried to forget. He plasters my mistakes all over the walls to keep them in view.

He would love nothing more than to box me into a rut, and surround me with memories of past misery to keep me there as long as possible.

That is just his way. His tendency, if you will. He, like me, has a few trends, and has gotten quite predictable.

But I refuse to participate. To be predictable. Not with him, anyway.

He hates it when I feel free to move forward. He abhors it when I choose to forgive, especially when I have plenty of reasons not to. He cringes when I figure out what works. He detests it when I open my Bible to find answers that will last until eternity. He loathes it when I find ways to keep my heart from becoming bitter. He hates it when I buck the trend and do exactly the opposite of what he expects me to do.

When I resist, he flees. He has no choice. He won’t waste his time on me if I won’t play his game.

Could it be that by learning Satan’s greatest weapon against me, I have also discovered my greatest weapon against him?

I would do well to remember that the battle is over. There is no reason for me to doubt or be afraid. Victory lies with those who refuse to engage in Satan’s meager attempts to distract us.

It was Jesus who proved this to me, over and over again. How is it that I so often forget?

Theme Songs

By Janet Morris Grimes –

One of my favorite songs is Through the Eyes of Love, which was the theme song to the move Ice Castles. I love the lyrics, but more than this, it takes me back to the closing scene of that movie, when an ice skater who has gone blind from a tragic accident chooses to skate again in front of a crowd that has no idea she cannot see. The song moves me to tears every time, and sums up the struggles of the movie perfectly.

Theme songs are that way. They combine the thoughts, feelings, memories, and even scents of an event and sum it up nicely into a moving piece of music; a magic carpet that can take us anywhere we long to be.

My nine-year-old nephew proved the power of theme songs to me when he recently heard Neal Diamond’s Sweet Caroline on the radio. “That’s the song they played when I went to the Atlanta Braves game, and we all sang along and ate popcorn.” The twinkle in his eye told me that it was already one of his fondest memories.

A college baseball team here in town has taken the ‘theme song’ idea a bit further. When each player gets up to the plate to bat, a line or two of his theme song plays. They introduce him by name, and then his song goes even further to explain who he is, and what he is all about.

It caused me to wonder what my theme song might be, if I could choose something for people to hear when they first meet me. Would they hear something joyful, catchy and upbeat, that would cause them to want to sing along?

I believe God is writing our movies as we go through each day. His desire is for others to be drawn to Him, through us. He is a masterful creator, and His stories should overflow in all areas of our lives.

My prayer is to live in such a way that when others cross my path, they will search until they find out the name of my theme song. I don’t know yet how the closing scene of my movie will play out. But I hope that my theme song will be something that others want to hear again and again; like a favorite song kept on repeat.

After all, my song comes from He who rejoices over me, with singing.

“The LORD your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing” (Zephaniah 3:17 NIV).

Powerful Words, Powerful Message

By Janet Morris Grimes –

My heart beat faster with each step. I pulled the door open, bracing myself for our first meeting.

I heard his unfamiliar voice before I saw him. Different than I expected, but I wasn’t sure exactly how. He rested in a chair, seated in an office that held his name on the door. Impressive.

I leaned inside as he rose from the fabric-covered chair.

“Hi. I’m Janet.”

He smiled. “You look just like your picture.”

“Is that good or bad?” I asked. Without waiting for an answer, nor giving him the option, I hugged him. I’d waited for this moment for a long time.

He was a bit shorter than I expected, but maybe that came from seeing him through my little-girl imagination, rather than through the eyes of an the adult I had become. His words were strong and calculated, expected from a lifelong preacher. Thick, silver hair topped his tanned face. His smile was jovial, inviting me to share in his happiness.

We stepped in unison up the steps to the auditorium and down the center aisle. He placed his Bible on the lectern for his upcoming lesson. I waited in anticipation on the pew, about four rows back. This man, once my father’s best friend, spoke on the book of Hebrews.

I half-listened, wondering what it would be like if my own father were standing there, using his own version of the authoritative preacher-voice.

They’d been buddies in high school before the relationship grew into a true brotherhood while roommates at David Lipscomb College. They tackled the world of the unknown together, each of them pretending to have more answers than the other. They kept each other from studying, sharing the blame for their poor grades. They found the girls of their dreams, and then married them.

A friendship that should have lasted forever. I guess in a way, it did.

My father was killed tragically in a car accident when I was just a baby, so I had no memories of him. This led me, as an adult, to contact his best friend, Rod, with one simple request.

“Please tell me about my father?”

He shared as many memories as he could with me, describing a funny, brilliant-when-he-wanted-to-be kind of guy. A practical joker. Stubborn, but in a good way. The kind of person that thankfully matched my fairy-tale version of him.

Rod provided hand-written letters Daddy had sent while Rod served as a missionary in Africa. He shared photos, expanding on the stories that surrounded them with a faraway look in his eyes. Did he travel back to those hallways and locker rooms at Salem High School? I so wanted to travel there with him; to peer around the corner and see for myself.

Our first face-to-face meeting came to an end much too soon. But as he was leaving, he offered these words:

“Janet, your father would be so proud of you.”

And the little girl in me melted. In some ways, I think that is all I ever wanted to hear. I needed to hear my father’s voice, but Rod’s served as a great substitute.

I left there wondering how many more people need to hear that message; but not so much about their own fathers. But from God.

Don’t we all wonder what He would think of us? As we strive to make Him proud, wouldn’t it be great to hear those same words, in His voice?

If that isn’t possible, shouldn’t we serve as the role of the best friend, and tell our kids and those around us as much as we can about God. About how He moves and how He loves?

I went directly home and said to my daughter, “Your Father, in Heaven, is so very proud of you.”

I suspect that is something she has waited her entire life to hear.

Kairos Moments

By Janet Morris Grimes –

Sometimes, you come across a moment so powerful, so potentially life-changing, you have no choice but to let it simmer; taking time to replay it in your mind, letting it sink in to absorb as much as the memory as possible.

It is as if you are aware of some sort of predestination to be at that place, at that precise time, with that particular group of people. Moments such as these are known as “Kairos” moments, defined as the “right time” for something to happen. These moments make it clear that we are a part of something much bigger than ourselves. We are following a path carved out before us, and our role is to simply follow it.

And I am grateful, further strengthened by the fact that what happens with each day of my life beyond my control. All I can do is believe and reach higher; taking advantage of the opportunities God sends my way, rather than lamenting those opportunities that he does not.

This is the way God intended it to be. He wants us to let Him do the work while we rest in the “shadow of His wings.” He wants us to think bigger, take more chances, and be bold enough to go further than we ever dreamed possible.

He is never surprised by our predicaments, overwhelmed by our circumstances, nor worried about our future. He is the God of “what if?” and “why not?” With God, there are no impossibilities. No accidents. Nothing is out of reach.

Understanding that God is in control in our lives is the key to finding peace and rest. Follow His path, embracing each opportunity with trust and dependence on Him, and you might just experience something so powerful, you have no choice but to sit and let it simmer: the ‘Kairos’ moments of the abundant life that He promised.

PRAYER: Dear Father, thank You for caring more about our future than even we do. Thank You for doing what is best for us eternally, even when we can’t see past our present circumstances. Make our paths straight before us, and give us the strength to follow. Reveal Your power in ways only we can understand. And teach us to enjoy your ‘Kairos’ moments.

“Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait until the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of the heart. At that time, each will receive their praise from God” (I Corinthians 4:5 NIV).

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